When will you store it in the first place? Promises, full of promises. Life is so full of that. Forever promises. Infinite promises. What kind of promises are stored out there? People, always make promises. Always use the word “promise” in their sentences, especially in dire times. When they needed it most. When someone needs reassurance. We simply have to promise anything, though unimaginable and impossible. We still do it, say it, promise it. That’s what promises do. It never was and never will be kept locked to forever, because forever is bullshit. Promises are bullshits. Its just words spoken by people who doesn’t know any better. Words spoken between friends, loved ones, couples, married ones, etc.
Promises sucks. So that’s all my mind has to say. I won’t bullshitting anyone. But I know I am talking shit, even though promises are bullshits. It adds drama to life. And what more a person could wish for? More drama.
So right now I can’t get over Gus and Hazel Grace. Their story was like An Imperial Affliction. It ends in the middle of the story. Or I guess it doesn’t really end. It leaves you hanging, wanting for more. Their story don’t have an ending. It leaves you wondering what could have happened with Hazel Grace, if her death was the same as Gus. Or if she really died or survived a few more years. We don’t exactly know what happened in her life after the last sentences of the novel. If Isaac might have an eye transplant or what. But I learned from the book that once a novel ends, it ends with its characters. There’s no more story after that. It was up to you to make it, or to accept that it ends there. Just like life, death happens in the middle of life. The universe will not stop when someone died. It still goes on. So death was just a passing time. A fleeting glance. A second pause. It could be an hour, days, months, or years to someone. But its only a blink of an eye. It happens. And it happens to everyone.
I don’t know the reason for writing this. But I do know that my thoughts are not limited to 140 characters of Twitter. I was supposed to tweet the first two sentences of this blog. But I realized I I have more to say than that.
What I am feeling right now is not sadness because the book tragically ends, or somehow it does, since death is a tragedy. Or amused because it was comically written, and you will love all the characters. From Gus down to the little girl named Jackie. I absolutely love the whole story. Although love is something more than just an easy word to say. But maybe, what I am feeling right now, is not actually a feeling. I do not feel. Or if ‘not feeling’ was actually a feeling after all. Its like I am empty, an empty shell. Nothing inside. So, okay. Maybe I am saying too many things right now. And I want this blog to end.
And I want to know how pain demands to be felt. Not the physical pain you feel when you are sick, because I believe its quite unbearable sometimes. I’ve been sick too. But not terminal. So, I may have wanted pain to demand me to feel it. But I guess we want things we do not have at this moment. And when it came, we wish we never really wanted it in the first place.
Yea, its confusing. But fuck yea, I must end this. Just read The Fault In Our Stars by John Green. Maybe the fault is not really in our stars, but in ourselves. Why should we blame the stars, anyways?
My hands pressed tightly on my hips and feet planted firmly on the ground. To you, I dare not risk a glance. You said, “You did something wrong, you’re stuttering and keep looking down on your shoes.” It’s not my feelings that betrayed me, it’s how well you knew me and there is nothing to hide. “Listen.” I began. I am more than scared, I feel bare, like the world is seeing too much of me. But you just have to know. Tomorrow you will leave me, but you just have to know.
for what reason do we hate? from which part of our human soul did anger came from? sometimes it is mindless, but mostly it is pure. hating and loving in equal measure. cradling the hurt inside our heart until it turn us into stone, enough to break, to kill, to wish for a world made for us alone.