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Everybody who reblogs this,
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oh this should be good
If the happiness doesn’t come from the “doing”, it comes from the “have done.” Everything is an opportunity. Everyone who has been great has to had sucked at one point, or was at least relatively worse. Baby steps are all that matters. If starting something isn’t hard, maintaining it will be.
Do not wallow.
So I’ve come to the end of the second week of daily blogging.
The good: I blogged daily.
The bad: How I blogged daily.
I’m writing this out nearing midnight, like I’ve done pretty much most of the past week. I haven’t even planned anything out, and it feels like I’m not putting as effort into this as I hoped I would be.
I’m not really stepping outside of my creativity comfort. I’m barely even staying in line with my prompts, if at all.
So new plan: continue to write daily. Properly, plan out what I’m going to write throughout the day. Keep a daily posting schedule that isn’t a half hour before midnight.
Love is everything. Including pain.
“Never Fall in Love with a Writer.”
I can’t help it. I can’t help but fictionalize the world around me, hyper-realize it, look at it through rose-colored glasses, through lenses carved out of prisms, through windows tinted way too dark.
I can’t help it, because I force myself to try to find light in a world that is sometimes way too dark.
I can’t help but sometimes be suspicious of the light, of a world too bright to be true, to be anxious for the darkness waiting to engulf it.
Because it always does come. Always.
Which I’ve come to realize means you have to enjoy every ounce of pure, unassuming, loving light you can get.
Never fall in love with a writer, because once you give a writer just a glimmer of love, a writer obsesses over it. A writer obsesses over the details, or at least the details that make themselves apparent.
And love, love is the most visible and the most complex detail. We’re all driven either by it or by the absence of it.
Never fall in love with a writer, or tell a writer that you could have fallen in love with him.
A writer, with his infinite hypotheticals, fictional universes, scenarios, is bound to overthink things like that.
I thin I’m driven by love. More so by it’s presence than by it’s absence.
I’m driven by a love I feel is always present.
I believe in the power of words. I believe in the exposure effect. I believe that positive words have more power than negative words. I believe the more we are exposed to positive words, they resonate, and we internalize; they become more powerful. I believe the more we are exposed to negative words, they lose their punch, and we perry; they become less powerful.
Keep your mind busy and your heart open. Show glimpses of your insecurities but don’t allow them to be remembered. You’re stronger than that, than your insecurities, than the part of you so openly shameful of them. You’re supposed to be the strongest person in the world. You expect that because you know you can be that. So be it. You can make your own demons, so why can’t you find ways to beat them?
Show glimpses. Don’t allow anyone to get too close. It’s better off that way.
In a tough scenario, I imagine a future hypothetical of everything I ever wanted.
Maybe I’m being interviewed on the today show. Maybe I’m in conversation with my biographer. Maybe I’m catching up with an old friend.
In this hypothetical, my reality, the situation I’m living, is a memory. My reality is my hypothetical’s flashback.
Matt Lauer’s gonna say to me, “Of course, a person with your background, your success, you must have gone through some tough times.”
Of course, Matt. Of course.
Face to face with Mr. Lauer, I’m having that flashback. I’m seeing my reality.
“How did you ever get through them?”
Four words, Matt. This Too Shall Pass.
“Did you imagine you’d be where you are today?”
I’m not totally sure what the question means.
And I return to reality, to my tough scenario.
This Too Shall Pass.
Nothing matters enough to have it on your mind longer than that nothing could ever last.
Good thing love is forever.
This Too Shall Pass. But not love.
This Too Shall Pass.
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