“There’s a brief moment when you first wake up where you have no memories, a blissful blank slate, a happy emptiness, but it doesn’t last long and you remember exactly where you are and what you are trying to forget.”—(via psych-facts)
Every single time I throw myself head first into a new adventure, plan out everything, think this is what is finally going to make me happy, everything will be perfect once I get here. And then after 4 or 5 months everything turns sour and feels like shit. I’m trapped once again, hating life and dreaming of better places and so again I plan something new.
Been doing this for 5 ish years, moved thousands of miles, started new jobs, lived in new flats in new places, met new people and none of it works. I can’t settle, can’t feel comfortable or happy and I’m always itching to run away to a new place and start all over again.
So here I am on the 8th or 9th try, planning to move halfway across the world to start again, cos I’ve convinced myself that happiness is somewhere else. Feels like I’m endlessly chasing false leads on a long gone cold case.
Getting tired now and running out of excuses to tell people why things I always think are going to work out well, never do. Why I never want to stick around and make things work, why I always want to run away.
“I like cancelled plans. And empty bookstores. I like rainy days and thunderstorms. And quiet coffee shops. I like messy beds and over-worn pajamas. Most of all, I like the small joys that a simple life brings.”—note to self (via bl-ossomed)
Sat here in the dark in my one bedroom flat, on my own after eating my meal for one microwave meal, dreading going to work in the morning with people I barely tolerate and only a bare weekend of solo tasks to look forward to, thinking how I couldn’t get any more lonely.
Ended up answering online posts for friends and people to talk to from other lonely people around the world.
“I don’t think people love me. They love versions of me I have spun for them, versions of me they have construed in their minds. The easy versions of me, the easy parts of me to love.”—(via chuckhansen)
Sat in the dark at 30,000 feet, when you’re nowhere and nothing is expected of you, in a sort of limbo, it gets very peaceful, like a cocoon. You’re safe for a while. I wished to stay there for longer, for forever, safe and untouched by the harsh world. But the lights came on and we landed (even though I wished strongly for a giant concrete wall to crash into). Forced back into the world with a large jolt, I disembarked, got the train home and set my alarm for work the next morning. Utterly despondent and praying for my cocoon again.