You know, few things make me sadder than the inevitability of death, and my belief that this is it, that there's not after life for the soul and that the body and your time on Earth will be the totality of your existence, just compounds on that. I can't force myself to believe that there's something else afterwards no matter how I look at it. I wish there were. I wish I could believe in a resurrection, or in a life in a peaceful heavenly place. Or hell, just to throw it out there. I wish I could believe. Honestly.

That said, it just makes me value my time here so much, and makes me want to do and feel and see and think and explore and enjoy so much of what's out there. It makes it better, in a way. And I can do that without the restraints of religion and the judgement of those equal to me who believe themselves my superior simply because they can comunicate with the invisible man in the sky.

So, yes. Believe in yourself. Believe in something if you must, but don't turn your life to a man-made organization whose only objective is to tell you how to live your life without requiring much input from you one way or the other.

new layout. 
its really wide, which i love, because entries don't get a chance to stretch it <3 

also, hi! :) 

leaving for cuba on monday (august the 2nd). again.
will be there until the 22nd. of august.

wish me fun and luck and puppies with unicorns and rainbows! 

 

posting/stealing this from angie, because i loved it!






yay!

same wallpaper, different variations on it.
i'm so excited for the films.

made for my screen size (1680x1050) which is pretty big, so just readjust for smaller ones at will.

You take.

You stand there, and ask for forgiveness and ask me to give you a semblance of hope, a way to see the future in a different way. You say that it would mean nothing without me, that without me to cling to, it isn't worth sticking around to see the end. You say this with no hint of remorse, and no tone of regret. You say it because you've rehearsed it a thousand times, and told it to me about the same amount.

And I give.

I talk of the beginning. I talk of how it all started, how it all seemed to grow bigger by the minute, and how by the end our first week, it seemed as if there was nothing left to find out about you. I talk of this and I remember, and my heart keeps telling me to remember that, to give that moment a chance once again. I talk of this and I remember, and my mind stops me in the tracks. It forces me to look beyond that first time, that first week, and that first everything. It shows me everything after: the lies, the deceit, the quietness and the ineptitude of hope.

You take it all.

There is no hope left. There's nothing left for me to cling to and absolutely everything that we were has been broken apart by you and your words and everything that you have brought to this so-called relationship has been forged in lies and secrets and regrets of things not yet accomplished. I held the ground. I gave myself hope and when that was no longer enough, I took it away and I gave you my hope, about the only thing I had left you hadn't managed to corrupt. And you took it, without remorse. You fed off it, and stayed by my side, all the time telling me you loved me.

And I give it all.

Maybe you did love me. For that first week or first month, maybe you did. Something changed after that. I don't know if it was the profound change that was taking place, or the influence of having someone in your life that wanted you just as you were, but it changed, and it stopped, and what should have perhaps ended there was given free reign by me, always with the belief that you would change and that it would all improve for the better one day. I taught myself to believe that better days were ahead when all the proof to the contrary surrounded me. I learned to laugh at jokes that were no longer funny, I learned to keep quiet when things that had no bearing came up in conversation, and I did it all for you.

No more.

When all of this is over, when it is finally over, when there are no remnants left, no desire in my heart left over for you, when I can finally say that I am free, I don't know what will become of me. I will lay in bed and think of you, of all the times spent in that bed and in this old house, and I will feel blessed that it is all over. You managed to irreparably damage me, and created in me a shell of what I was and what I used to be. What you leave behind isn't what you find, but that will change. Maybe not today, maybe not in a week, but the capacity for change is there, locked away where you couldn't reach it.

You lose. Me, and everything.

I solemnly bow not to do it again, because it's not worth me feeling like this, feeling like shit, and betraying him. I'm giving up on life.

Even if the end result isn’t the one originally expected, it still beats not having taken the chance out of fear over the outcome. You can’t guess outright what will happen in the future over a decision you take in the present. There are patterns you might go over, expected results based on any number of factors: because you do this that will happen. Ultimately it happens because any other choice would be a lesser one.

Bells and sirens go off in the back of your mind to serve as warning, and your mind asks that you listen. Much in the same way, however, butterflies in your stomach overshadow everything else, and the heart, as it usually happens, has its way. Some will do it for the rush: the expectancy of what will happen disguised in interest for the meantime. Others will do it to take a chance: to cautiously step over warnings of broken hearts and mended dreams. They are the ones carrying the most risk, but by the same virtue, the most reward.

That first date where everything is perfect and the conversations flow with no prodding or empty silences; that first time when everything surrenders to perfection, when only the moment matters and all other errant thoughts are disposed of easily under the pretext of the here and now. There is a flash, when light caresses her face in a way that you hadn’t seen before, and the soft breeze of the autumn night plays with her hair, evocative, amusing, all leading to the final moment, ending on a perfect kiss.

That is the beginning, without regards to the end, to what might happen in the uncertain future. You take the chance because every other choice becomes a lesser one after that first time. The broken hearts and the mended dreams will return, momentarily or for an indefinite stay, but in that moment when nothing else mattered, when all seemed right and full of everything, you leapt mightily.