All I Want For Christmas

This year didn’t really start that well. I was in the middle of questioning my very own existence when it begun, in fact. I had a very different idea of how it would go, provided that I didn’t picture myself seeing most of it. But oh, I did, and rather amusingly, I don’t regret it. I do regret doing and saying a few things along the way, many in fact, but breathing is definitely not a part of that list.

The one thing I regret the most is pushing people away. I was so scared of getting too attached and then feeling hurt that I started to hurt just to protect myself from it. My biggest fear became my most powerful weapon, my fastest gun, my sharpest knife, and it was only after I turned into an abstract sociopath that I realized I was better off when I was disarmed. Vulnerability too has its own pleasures.

Set your soul free to get hurt and you’ll find it falling in love even more.

Or at least wait for its wounds to heal before you put it behind bars, and you’ll find that you don’t want to anymore.

I wish I could go back in time and un-lose all the people I’ve lost this year because it was because of one person that I let in that I’m still breathing. Letting my walls down was the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me, so much so, I wish I did it more.

I fell in love with life while waiting for it to end.

And all I want for Christmas is to never hurt someone again.

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The OTHER Kind of Homophobia

Disclaimer: For humans, this can trigger hate towards the author. Content is open to all kinds of subjectivity. This piece is a work of reality and applies mostly to the author.

Now, if you didn’t close the tab after reading the disclaimer, I bless you. If you didn’t read the disclaimer, I bless you too; it was by far the worst one I’ve seen.

Anyway, I got this pair of shoes just a few days ago and I’ve never received hate in such colossal quantity from a non living object before. Considering the fact that I‘m a good 4’10, the only good thing they’ve done to me is made me look a bare 5’2.

See, I’m the kind of person who values comfort more than anything – Anything except being treated my age (People generally think I’m 12). And besides that, no matter how much I want to, I can never pull off a pair of converse with an elegant black dress.

People generally suggest me to cover up for my lack of beauty with my abundance of personalities (I possess a lot of those), but that would mean having to spark up conversations and I try to avoid human contact as much as possible. I mean, we, as a community, as in all of mankind, are a bunch of VERY fucked up beings. I don’t know if it is general Homo sapiens tendency to be that messed up, or if I’ve just had encounters with very strange people in my life, but I’m very terrified of getting to know the mess and falling in love with it.

I guess I’m kind of Homo-sapiens-phobic.

In short: I fear knowing how screwed people are and still falling for them and then getting hurt and so I choose the give a pair of stilettos the right to hurt me because it’s easier than the other kind of hurt.

Signin’ out

THAT girl.