Everybody wants a reason for everything.
It's so much easier with someone or something to blame.
People always want someone or something to blame before taking responsibility for their shit because it's easy.
I've always struggled at the root of the problem.
Has it been absence or my constant lack of defense?
The author struggles to find the root problem. Confused whether it was a pre existing condition or something out of childhood.
I've never spent a lot on finding a remedy. I guess I figured that it hurt for a reason. I guess that's why I've always turned to writing it down. Not just in stories, but the letters in between.
And I guess that's why it haunts the pages of everything. To self-examine.
He never honestly tried to fix himself. He accepted his pain as though that was life. And to cope, he wrote. Yet not just poetically, but in everyday life. He spoke in a way that carried this guilt. And he can't be introspective; because it hurts.
I think the thing is that I shut off from everything. From friends and family and my own ambitions. From having fun. I just shut off from everything. Self-defeating? Yeah, probably. But I don't know that I had total control over it. And I'm not sure it even matters why. Sometimes things happen and you can't do anything. Plus, I'm the only one who deals with it anyway. So if everyone could do me a favor and just put their fingers down I'd - and keep your mouths
And he realises that he shut off or gave up with no way to better himself. He doesn't know how to reconcile with his past. Or what difference it would make. He looks back at the past when he had no control over a situation. He accepts it as something that happens all the time. And he's tired of other people pitching their 50 cent; as if they could feel his pain.
Sorry. I know I seem angry. I'm not, I... I promise. I just know I did this to me. And I will deal with it accordingly. And I don't need opinions from those never a part of it. Don't need them pointing out my problems, they're mine. Don't need reminders I know better than anyone.
But he can't feel but angry. He grew up angry. And he knows it. He doesn't mean to be mean. But he's still tired of people's opinion on how to fix his life. He believes they haven't had the same struggle.
And yeah, I know I should be finding another way. I know that I should be out seeking a substitute. But just forgetting never really made sense to me.
And he realises he can't keep going at this pace. But he can't make peace with his past.
So, I haven't been.
Do I feel embarrassed about it? I think you know the answer to that. I think you'd probably feel a little bit embarrassed for me, wouldn't you?
Now this almost feels like he's talking to a family member or significant other. He says the error in his ways, but it was his way, and he has to answer for it; and shamefully so.
I know I should've moved on ages ago, been happy already, but it's never been that easy for me. Or maybe it was me that made it so hard.
This leads me to believe it was about a significant other. He can't move on from that lost love. Or maybe moved on from that stage of his life. But since he can't self examine, it's extremely painful.
I know I've only ever tried a handful of times to sever this thing torturing me. It never got me anywhere, with anyone. No friendship or hobby, no lover's bed worked. But looking back I maybe never tried hard enough, and it is my fault.
This would appear his poor attempt at seeking therapy or coming to terms with it. Every attempt has left in worst off, either by remembrance or by lack of will. And nothing has truly helped. But ultimately, he blames himself for not ever trying.
My interpretation here:
Everybody wants a reason for everything. It's so much easier with someone or something to blame.
People always want someone or something to blame before taking responsibility for their shit because it's easy.
I've always struggled at the root of the problem. Has it been absence or my constant lack of defense?
The author struggles to find the root problem. Confused whether it was a pre existing condition or something out of childhood.
I've never spent a lot on finding a remedy. I guess I figured that it hurt for a reason. I guess that's why I've always turned to writing it down. Not just in stories, but the letters in between. And I guess that's why it haunts the pages of everything. To self-examine.
He never honestly tried to fix himself. He accepted his pain as though that was life. And to cope, he wrote. Yet not just poetically, but in everyday life. He spoke in a way that carried this guilt. And he can't be introspective; because it hurts.
I think the thing is that I shut off from everything. From friends and family and my own ambitions. From having fun. I just shut off from everything. Self-defeating? Yeah, probably. But I don't know that I had total control over it. And I'm not sure it even matters why. Sometimes things happen and you can't do anything. Plus, I'm the only one who deals with it anyway. So if everyone could do me a favor and just put their fingers down I'd - and keep your mouths
And he realises that he shut off or gave up with no way to better himself. He doesn't know how to reconcile with his past. Or what difference it would make. He looks back at the past when he had no control over a situation. He accepts it as something that happens all the time. And he's tired of other people pitching their 50 cent; as if they could feel his pain.
Sorry. I know I seem angry. I'm not, I... I promise. I just know I did this to me. And I will deal with it accordingly. And I don't need opinions from those never a part of it. Don't need them pointing out my problems, they're mine. Don't need reminders I know better than anyone.
But he can't feel but angry. He grew up angry. And he knows it. He doesn't mean to be mean. But he's still tired of people's opinion on how to fix his life. He believes they haven't had the same struggle.
And yeah, I know I should be finding another way. I know that I should be out seeking a substitute. But just forgetting never really made sense to me.
And he realises he can't keep going at this pace. But he can't make peace with his past.
So, I haven't been.
Do I feel embarrassed about it? I think you know the answer to that. I think you'd probably feel a little bit embarrassed for me, wouldn't you?
Now this almost feels like he's talking to a family member or significant other. He says the error in his ways, but it was his way, and he has to answer for it; and shamefully so.
I know I should've moved on ages ago, been happy already, but it's never been that easy for me. Or maybe it was me that made it so hard.
This leads me to believe it was about a significant other. He can't move on from that lost love. Or maybe moved on from that stage of his life. But since he can't self examine, it's extremely painful.
I know I've only ever tried a handful of times to sever this thing torturing me. It never got me anywhere, with anyone. No friendship or hobby, no lover's bed worked. But looking back I maybe never tried hard enough, and it is my fault.
This would appear his poor attempt at seeking therapy or coming to terms with it. Every attempt has left in worst off, either by remembrance or by lack of will. And nothing has truly helped. But ultimately, he blames himself for not ever trying.
Maybe I never tried at all.