Get past it Or use it.
05:47 Oct 06 2025
Times Read: 39
Why do you look back? You always look back.
No. No I don't.
Yes. You do.
No. Stop pretending otherwise, to please some crowd that has never been watching and cares far less than you've been
able to admit to yourself.
Then what do you call what you've been doing? Glancing back? Give me a break. It's still the same thing.
I never said I didn't look back. I said I don't always look back.
Cute. Alright. So why are you looking back now?
The same exact, precise reason why I always look back. When the pain now can be subsided by what brought me joy back then. It's that simple. I don't do it often. Or I should say... I do it often enough to balance out whatever pain I am currently dealing with. You KNOW this. Why are you questioning me now like some distant acquaintance that just learned this about me? You live it. And you know it. So, what the fuck gives?
I... I don't know. I guess I wanted to pretend like there was some flawed logic I could tear apart and make you feel less of a person for doing so.
Great. How'd that work out for you?
I may have fucked up, ever so slightly.
Stop trying to sabotage your misery further. You've plenty of it to last you more than one lifetime. Get over your egotistical musings about how you might best be perceived by others, and look me in the eyes. Yes. This is who we've been. We think about what makes up happy at whatever point we feel low. This is why you have a hard time letting go of people. Because you are so sickeningly thankful for those few moments of peace and laughter they shared with you, despite becoming monsters and hurting us later. So bask in the simple, various and short joys we've still got in our memory, and press on with creating new joys with those that still remain by our side. This is who we are, and if there's something you think you regret, you best make sure it's not you second guessing our overthinking. I won't be questioned by some meandering fool who's only trying to look and please other by fitting some mold they have preconceived for us. Fuck them and Fuck you too if you think I'll ever let you take me there. I've fought countless battles on a stupid amount of fronts to keep us... us.
This :: motions up and down:: What ever this is--was, ain't gonna do bub. It never did. And I don't care how old, worn, broken I become... it WILL NEVER DO. So grow up, and take a check on what's giving you these annoying pauses, I bet you it's someone who can't even whisper your name without becoming angry at themselves. Take pride, what little you have, in that fact and fuck off with all this extra shit. I've got poetry to write. Poetry about both nothing, and them. Let me think straight and use every bit of what they gave us, to create far reaching emotions for those would be commiserators; as that is one aspect of art, to reach far and wide and let even just one other, know that they are not alone in whatever way possible. And I'll always look back, because that is how lessons work, you psuedolistically naive fuck. ...Ever so slightly, my ass. Pfft.
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