IT GETS BETTER...BUT DOES IT?

It gets better!

You'll get used to it.

That is what everyone keeps saying all the time for every bloody thing, right. But does it? Does it ever get better? Well, I don't think it does. I have never seen it getting better. We do get used to it but is that the point. It is like a circuit that keeps getting miserable and miserable!

I don't want to be ungrateful for the okayish things that life has given me. But lately, the bad is outweighing the good. I keep waiting for it to get better, waking up every day with a teensy hope that this day is going to be different, this week will be the change, but it just keeps getting worse.

For the longest time, I held myself responsible for many things that go wrong in my life because I have had this pining itch to fix things. In fixing things that were out of my control, I have arrived at a point where I NEED FIXING.

And I think I know where to start that from, but I am too scared to do that because everything that I have touched to fix hasn't exactly turned into gold.

For how long are we supposed to cling upon this frail thread of hope that things will get better? Why is it so hard to accept that it may never get better?

It's about time we lift the weight off our shoulders and start setting our hope into things/people that have the genuine potential of getting better because we are not too far from losing it all.

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PATTERNs & MOs

I have a friend who once told me about this theory of how we keep befriending or falling for people with identical qualities. It's like a pattern, a subconsciously identified comfort zone that we get lured by. I gave quite a thought to this, much more than I usually do to something I generally hear. I got really lucky in the friendship department, so falling in the pattern is worth my while. I would happily do it over and over again. But, when it comes to matters of heart, mmm, not so much! I just realised that the MO of the guys I get involved with is terrifying. (Switched to MO instead of patterns because it's criminal the number of times I have been hurt). It starts with them finding me somewhere on the internet. For the first month, they treat me like I put stars in the sky, pursue me as their world revolves around me, and practically force me to fantasise about a full-fledged life with them. Well, I am no less. My MO is over-sharing, a butt load of honesty, putting on

Jack of Crisis, Masters of Denial

Sinking in the sea of crisis, human-made, situational or self-induced. We aren't looking for solutions anymore. We aren't wasting time sulking. We are straight-up pushing it all to the deepest, darkest, rarely visited corners of our heads. After all, living in denial still counts for living, contrary to facing the feelings that leave you lifeless. We are eating, drinking, sleeping off or sleeping with the crisis. Pretending to be as unbothered while denying the fact that it burns like a gin and hurts like a bitch. Faking, hoping to make it. Skating through life while the fire within simmers only to erupt when least expected.

Ah! The incomparable joy and comfort in the lonliness

The joy of roaming around in an empty house in a robe with a glass of wine, The comfort of eating your favourite meal in a public space with your AirPods on, The joy of watching a movie and not getting prompted every minute, The comfort of not having to talk to anyone after a long-long day of work, The subtle joy and comfort in knowing there isn't anyone for you to depend upon. If you shatter into a thousand pieces, no one is going to pick any fraction of it. I am now best friends with the void that scared the shit out of me. Chills run through my body when I spare a mere thought of how comfortable I have gotten in my own company. I don't know what or which particular experience it is that cut right through me. But whatever or whoever did it, they did me a favour. After it all, you are all you got.

Ribs_Writes

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