Moving on, Starting over.

 

 

Inspired from personal experiences.

I hate how people cling to other people, things or memories and avoid starting anything new, or giving anything else a shot.  One thing I truly love about myself is that nothing is easier for me than throwing something behind my back and starting over if that specific thing turns into a hopeless case or causes me a lot of unnecessary headache (Insert nods from angels one and two).

Moving on is not about avoiding to talk about/to  something/someone ,it is not about avoiding to do things or avoiding to go back to things that remind you of someone/something, it is the ability of staring everything that reminds you of what you’re trying to forget in the eye and not feeling a single thing.

A lot of people mistake being able to stay away from a thing or a person for moving on, when in fact the only thing that comes out of avoiding situations is putting your feelings to sleep for a while only to realize out of a sudden that they did not vanish but on the contrary, they grew deeper.

Moving on is being able to look back on what was, smile and think how thankful you are for what is  , becoming obsessed is looking back on what was , feeling bitter and angry and assuring yourself that what was is not over yet until you say it is.

Nothing is the end of the world except for THE end of the world, what seems like a tragedy today might become an embarrassing  memory later on that you could look back on and punch yourself in the face for. Instead of focusing on how hard it would be to move on and start something new just keep one thing in mind; things change, people change, they move on, nothing stays the same forever and you don’t always get your way, if something is destined to happen it will without all the constant whining and the desperate attempts to make it happen as soon as possible, and regardless of who disapproves of it, and if something is not destined to happen it won’t, even if the whole world gathered to make it happen.

 

Three

Perfect vs. Human

 

 

 

 Brought to you by Three

The thing about hangovers is that not only alcohol causes them but anything in excessive amounts does. I’m suffering from a mental hangover, been thinking a lot recently,  about everything.
A lot of people strive to appear perfect, we all know that the state of perfection cannot be reached by humans but a lot of people try to look perfect. I hate rude careless irresponsible people who say and do things without giving either any prior thought, I can bear having to talk to them for a while because I believe that, even though they get on my nerves big time and even though talking to some of them can be degrading, they are harmless. What  I cannot bear at all are people who think a lot about things and plan every single word they utter beforehand, I just can’t deal with similar people. Those who live by a handbook are almost never real or sincere, they gather a couple of principles that look appealing while applied by others and try to apply them to real life situations, they mostly fail or fail to be convincing.  The reason behind that is mostly fear and no self esteem or confidence, People who feel that they can never be good enough while being themselves, people who feel that they need to look perfect so as to make others like them,  people who believe that they need to be cheerful, happy and funny 24/7, people who keep going on and on about how confident they are, people who end up lonely and friendless, stupid people.

Striving to become a better person is good, suffocating the real you to save yourself the embarrassments you could cause yourself is bad and pathetic.
I love a lot of people, non of them is perfect, if I wanted perfect and planned reactions, words or actions I would’ve befriended a dictionary, but that is not what I want. I’m imperfect, just like everyone out there, I have very bad and annoying habits and traits, but the bad comes with the good, the beautiful with the ugly, if we were to focus on everything that is bad about people we’d end up being  a bunch of lonely cave-people, but we were all born imperfect just like each other, we put up with each other’s bad traits because we love the good ones so very dearly, and with time, what we thought were bad traits become things we cannot live without, things we wouldn’t trade for the whole world.

I’d choose a stupid mansaf-eating, soda –drinking faisali-cheering human over perfect anytime of the day.

I love her but I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why.

Brought to you by ONE 

I came across this touching story, I don’t like to do the copy paste thingie, but this one brought tears to my eyes. It’s really ironic how sometimes we lack the courage and thus we might end up regretting our whole life, and when we get the right chance; it might be too late.

10th grade

As I sat there in English class, I stared at the girl next to me. She was my so called “best friend”. I stared at her long, silky hair, and wished she was mine. But she didn’t notice me like that, and I knew it. After class, she walked up to me and asked me for the notes she had missed the day before and I handed them to her. She said “thanks” and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I wanted to tell her, I wanted her to know that I didn’t want to be just friends, I love her but I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why.

11th grade

The phone rang. On the other end, it was her. She was in tears, mumbling on and on about how her love had broken her heart. She asked me to come over because she didn’t want to be alone, so I did. As I sat next to her on the sofa, I stared at her soft eyes, wishing she was mine. After 2 hours, one Drew Barrymore movie, and three bags of chips, she decided to go to sleep. She looked at me, said “thanks” and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I wanted to tell her, I wanted her to know that I don’t want to be just friends, I love her but I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why.

Senior year

The day before prom she walked to my locker. My date is sick” she said; he’s not going to go well, I didn’t have a date, and in 7th grade, we made a promise that if neither of us had dates, we would go together as “best friends”. So we did. Prom night, after everything was over, I was standing at her front door step. I stared at her as she smiled at me and stared at me with her crystal eyes. I wanted her to be mine, but she didn’t think of me like that, and I knew it. Then she said “I had the best time, thanks!” and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I wanted to tell her, I wanted her to know that I didn’t want to be just friends, I love her but I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why.

Graduation Day

A day passed, then a week, then a month. Before I could blink, it was graduation day. I watched as her perfect body floated like an angel up on stage to get her diploma. I wanted her to be mine, but she didn’t notice me like that, and I knew it. Before everyone went home, she came to me in her smock and hat, and cried as I hugged her. Then she lifted her head from my shoulder and said, “you’re my best friend, thanks” and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I wanted to tell her, I wanted her to know that I don’t want to be just friends, I love her but I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why.

A Few Years Later

Now I sit in the pews of the church. That girl is getting married. I watched her say “I do” and drive off to her new life, married to another man. I wanted her to be mine, but she didn’t see me like that, and I knew it. Before she drove away, she came to me and said “you came! Thanks!” and she kissed me on the cheek. I wanted to tell her, I wanted her to know that I don’t want to be just friends, I love her but I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why.

Funeral

Years passed, I looked down at the coffin of a girl who used to be my “best friend”. At the service, they read a diary entry she had wrote in her high school years. This is what it read: I stare at him wishing he was mine, but he doesn’t notice me like that, and I know it. I want to tell him, I want him to know that I don’t want to be just friends, I love him but I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why. I wish he would tell me he loved me! `I wish I did too…` I thought to my self, and I cried.