assleep:

everyone, everyone,who reblogs this will get a message in their inbox telling them what kind of life they have and what kind of person i think they are just based on their blog.

The “least you could have done” for someone is what you should have done for them. The least is expected, but it is not the median because of course people set even higher standards than what is meant to be met.  Those higher standards aren’t even considered the “most” of what you could have done because the most would have to be going beyond their expectations. Of course, it’ll always be best if you go above and beyond someone’s expectations but it is selfish to expect someone to do the most for you.  To have someone go so far as to even achieve our expectations of impossibilities is usually more than we deserve. What we think we deserve and what we actually deserve are usually far from each other.

When I’m standing on the edge of a cliff or walking along the side of a road that has cars racing by, I have an urge to jump right into my inevitable death. As I feel the coolness of the wind rushing past me and through me, I feel unbounded to the world.  It’s not that I want to die, it’s that I feel eternal and although I know that it is impossible and that death comes easy, my urge does not die, it simply remains a thought. What I expect of it is to feel my spirit soar.  I elaborated on this idea and after awhile I discovered the bigger concept of it all, which is that without at least a small measure of faith, I could not imagine my spirit as anything more than nothing once I died.  Although I am “in-between beliefs”, as I like to say, it helps to know that I am not drained of all faith, that there is still something in me that can optimize for greater things than there are of this life.  This does not renew my faith in any one dogma, but it gives me something to hold on to, to ponder, and to do my best to make sense of.  After all, having an idea of faith must be a small measure of faith in itself.

It’s been really wonderful having my brother back home for vacation. It’s only been a little less than two weeks now and he’ll be leaving too soon. I don’t even want to think about how different it’s going to be without him here. I know what it’s like, so it’s no surprise, but thinking about it now I feel really sad and I’m already missing him. I love my brother and I look up to him more than anyone else. Having him here and just being in his company, whether we’re driving around or just chilling in his room, has been the best. 

I have most, not necessarily many, but all of my writings hidden in “drafts”.  I leave them there, unread and sometimes unfinished even. You see, I almost always second-guess myself; what I wrote, my feelings from writing it, and the writing itself. So I save it in drafts and I wait for the right time to allow those secrets, those thoughts of mine, to be revealed. The right time when I’m sure of those feelings and of myself, when I’m ready to show people a glimpse of  truth in me.  However, I think I’m starting to realize that the best time is always the present. The feeling you have at any single, particular moment will never be exactly repeated and to record it and know that at that moment, that is exactly who you were and how you felt, is more beautiful than perfecting your grammar and your feelings to be “right”.

There’s a wonderful purity in what a person has to say when they are writing for themselves and about themselves. I think it is most genuine and is something which should be embraced, just as we should embrace ourselves and who we are.

It’s 5:05 in the morning and the moon is still out. Romantics say that they look to the moon to be a reminder that somewhere, someone they love is looking at it too, by the moon they are connected. But what if two lovers are in different time zones? Is the feeling still the same? Is that why some lovers are lost to each other?

I look to the moon and I think about what I want to do right now. I want to go running, but it’s too early for me to leave my house. Really I just want to get out of the place that I’m in right now, leave, and find something. I feel like all the hopeless romantic fools in love want to do the same. The difference is that they want to find their love & I want to find peace of mind in my thoughts. Running has a way of opening your thoughts but also keeping it so preoccupied with pure motivation to keep going. That’s what I like about it, but I’m so out of shape and right now I feel as hopeless as a romantic.

We’re all consumed by the same aggressive drive to succeed and continuously improve that we rarely pause to allow ourselves to bask in our own glories, to take notice of all that we have accomplished, and appreciate all that we do have.  Honestly, I find it really selfish of us that we always want more and more, even if it is from ourselves.  It seems as though we’re never satisfied with what we have.  Of course this is a good thing in terms of motivation, but is it not based on selfish motives? We work as hard as we can and we do whatever it takes to get where we are and to achieve a dream and once we achieve it, we make another and another and we ask for more.  As noble a pursuit as this concept is, I feel torn between admiration and disgust.  It’s honorable to progress, but not if our ambitions to succeed overcome us.

Note to self: Recognize every achievement as a blessing and seek not to succeed in power, but in happiness.