Life is as much about the pain and sorrow as it is about the happiness and beauty. All these feelings will escape you soon enough. The gold doesn't last, but neither does the shit.
Relish in every emotion. We're only of flesh and blood, before you know it we'll all be dirt. So feel. Live.
The parts of myself that I actively hate are the parts of myself that I savagely love. I leap into things far too soon because I know if I didn't the part of me that doesn't feel ready is never going to feel ready. Who the fuck's actually ready anyways?
I fuck myself over and over again because I know I'll beat everyone else to it. I'm only trying to prove them right. The only thing I've succeeded in this life is self-punishment. I experience cycles of guilt, defiance, and then succumb to morose disillusionment (pity party). These cycles are sometimes speckled with fleeting moments of being over-joyed. Over kill.
The sense of enjoyment is usually accompanied by guilt. For me, anyway.
I feel like shit. I feel pathetic. I feel weird.
Why is it that the only time I acknowledge my feelings are when the feelings are bad?