[Shitpost – 4:30am]
They say the only people awake at this hour are the lonely and the loved, but I’m here because my caffeine buzz is wearing off and I wish I was in love. Right now I feel like I am, but with no one in particular, possibly someone who doesn’t exist, and it’s frustrating. Why am I talking about love so much? Everyone around me is getting into relationships, getting married, and, honestly, being single is getting boring real quick. But I also see people getting into the wrong relationships and just generally being unhappy; I’m tryna stress how important a foundation is. No more time wasting. I only want something if it’s real.
My state of mind right now is equivalent to being intoxicated in some way, so it’s about to get real raw and embarrassing. I feel high. I’m also listening to old J Cole and Miguel and I feel like aunt flo is about to visit, so my head is a real shitstorm right now. Soppy bitch mode currently turned on full blast.
The sun’s about to rise and I’m not tiptoeing around my thoughts; when everything is silent and still, we’re forced into introspection, we have to face everything about ourselves head on. It’s painful, it’s liberating, there’s something sublime about it. I’ve dashed anxiety out of the window, focused too much on being happy with myself and, in the process, forgot to really get back into my head. Not trying to fall back into bad habits, but here we are. I got me up all night, down and out with these love songs. Can’t lie, I missed this.
Something this depraved is not a product of a loving god.
I’m gonna talk about religion; not just about my religion specifically, so I don’t want anybody in the comments asking me why I’m not condemning ISIS. That ain’t my job, bish. I’m talking about religion generally: the whole concept of God, of divine books, of the afterlife.
I am struggling with religion.
Haram police, look away, because I’m about to reveal something: sometimes I wish I was Atheist. The complete hecking truth is that sometimes I wish that I could believe in nothing. I wish I believed that once we die, we’re just left to rot in the ground and turn into fertiliser because that makes everything so much easier. But I can’t. I wish I could be left to my own devices and know that everything I’m doing is a product of my own decisions and who I’ve grown into, but I can’t. I know that I’m living based on a book, based on a religion that I so strongly believe in that I couldn’t escape if I wanted to. I so strongly believe in it, yet I don’t follow it completely. I hate feeling like I’m scared to die simply because of what happens afterwards. Death itself doesn’t bother me. I’d have probably killed myself a long time ago if it wasn’t a straight ticket to hell, so I guess I gotta thank religion for that.
I haven’t watched the new episode of the Walking Dead yet, so if I see any spoilers I will punch you in the face.
Welcome to another shitpost.
With 2017 coming to an end, I started thinking about shit that I’ve learnt, things that I want to keep on board throughout the next year. Things that I think everybody should follow. Everyone has shitty days, some more than others, and I wonder how I genuinely still feel kind of okay even during those times – how anybody does. Honestly, it’s probably because I know who I am and I know what I want. Whatever shitty times befall you, it’ll pass, even if it takes hours, days or months. It’ll always pass. Every now and then you’ll find yourself in a tiny moment that makes you feel like everything has the potential to be great.
Anytime I feel like shit, I think ‘What would Dwight do?’ And then I stop feeling like shit. Dwight would not feel like shit. Dwight doesn’t wallow in self pity. Be Dwight, always.
Anyway, I’m gonna stop rambling and tell you the most important things I’ve learnt. This time I’ve even made it a little more attractive and coherent by bolding the headings; learn to be more considerate towards others, got it x
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Welcome to my night time, coffee-fuelled shit talking post. I haven’t done one of these in a while, but if you’re new to my blog, know that these are probably the most honest and raw posts I’ll ever write. That’s why they’re rare. Sometimes it’s in the form of poetry, other times, like now, it’s just word vomit. I don’t edit these. It’s the time where I’m wired but also tired, and when I’m listening to my night time songs.
One weird thing I’ve been called is ‘strong’. Strong because I can let things go, strong because I can stand by my beliefs, strong because I don’t fall for every guy that talks to me. I don’t know. I don’t know if I like being called strong, because there are certain expectations that come with that label. Am I allowed to cry? Am I allowed to fight for a guy who doesn’t give a shit? Am I allowed to have panic attacks? Am I allowed to be too nervous to walk into a crowded place sometimes?
Because I do all of those things too. And sometimes, that label gets in the way.