Continuance

IN ORDER TO BE STRONG we need to feel weak sometimes. That's how these things work. And it's the "weakening" that makes us question how "strong" we can be, have been, should be, and will be. And thinking such things weakens me even more, but I still hold on. And it's not to whatever I can find, it's to what I've always held onto: the pursuit of what can make me happy. And I've grown to accept that people should never have anything to do with trust. People are human beings. And it's not that trust cannot exist within a person, it simply fades. And thinking one should, even sometimes, rely on other people, is simply the most naive thing I can imagine. Part of growing up is greatly, but not completely, affected by others. We meet people. We converse, we argue, we laugh, we cry, we become friends, we become enemies. And sometimes, we fall in love, we fall out of love (because that too can fade) and even when we promise ourselves it will never be the same, we find ourselves meeting more people and falling in love; stereotyped action. And there are all these tiny spaces in between that mean everything. They make, to a certain extent, who we become: mature, dignified, happy, bitter, confused, lonely, thoughtful, uncertain, smarter, more ignorant, complete, expressive, secretive, complicated, arrogant, sly, hurtful, caring - you get my point, right? And even yet! There are the unfortunate few who go even beyond the things fore mentioned. We get lost somewhere in between the chaos of figuring out other's effect on our life. And even after trying time and time again to unblend the gray into black and white, we end up falling asleap, a decision that no longer rests in our efforts to stay awake, but continue to run endlessly within our dreams that, also have been affected. Damn. The next morning is quiet. You can't even cry anymore. So you laugh. And you prepare yourself for the beginning of another day. Then you get angry. Because you wake up all sad and in an attempt to be deep and miserable, you tell yourself, "This is it! I wont speak for a week."
Then your mother walks into to your room and makes a joke about how ever since you've been young you can't last the night with your socks on, and reaches over to grab your feet and so you laugh. And then you get sad because although you know there are people you can "talk to" about how you're feeling, you also know chances are they'd only understand something to a certain extent. It's impossible to know just how someone feels unless you've been in the exact same situation, which also sounds fairly unlikely. And you tell yourself you cannot love anyone anymore because it's not worth the efforts; efforts that mean nothing after some time, and they fade, because you can trust no one. But then you're walking to class, thinking about how numb you feel, when suddenly you make eye contact with this tiny little individual and you walk faster because you think, "how rude! He's interrupting my "sad" mojo!" but you can't help but hope he follows you up the stairs. He does. You exchange a "hello," and a nod, and he hands you a note and you walk away, into the miserable oblivion of a classroom with a chubby teacher who bitches about people who "glance" at things. Then...you read it, vent for a while, and realize you're willing to start all over. Because whomever made you sad to begin with, is not worth it in the slightest. It's them who will one day realize the despair... and feel hollow. Even if just for a moment.