Caring

Do I care? That is a question I ask myself constantly. A lot of the time I can answer pretty quickly with a harsh and swift "no, I fucking don't". Guess what though? It's a fucking cop out half the time. I almost always DO care. I actually care way too much, if that's possible. The problem lies with admitting how much I care and being comfortable with the amount of vulnerability that causes within me. I have to be pretty naked and willing to accept my sensitivities and that I actually am a sensitive dude who wants love and acceptance and belonging just like most other people do too. It's easier, but actually much harder, to be the bad ass. To care, well, that takes fucking REAL balls. To not get roped into the romanticism of melodramatic sighs and gorgeous black painted dreams. What I mean is it's easy to watch a depressing movie or listen to a sad as fuck song and think : "wow, I guess it's cool to be sad and miserable", when in fact, I promise you the person who was inspired to write the movie or song you listened to did not wish to have such deep sorrow. It was his/her only way to survive, to express it and churn it out from his soul. To purposely invite misery out of some brain damaged view that it will make you cooler or stronger or more interesting is ludicrous. I promise you, life is crazy enough as it is and brutally unfair enough to where you'll fucking experience pain no matter how hard you try to avoid it. So embrace that shit, ride it hard and be grateful you had the opportunity to experience love, sadness, rage, and loss all while we move around this chaotic rock spinning through space. PEACE.

 

Sincerely, 


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