The hanged man, a card I get often. I still see life as a film, I thought I saw it all differently, but I guess not. I thought I could make artificial happiness, keep it forever and then be content. I thought if I fell in love, then happiness would come. But no, you cannot hope that loving someone will fix your own happiness, especially when they don't even love you. I've still been the same distant person, I thought I had changed. The one part that did change was my own view on myself. I think that's important.
Was life always this stale? For too long I've looked at life as a dream, trying to be invested but always falling short. It's much easier to look at life as film, to be a silent director.
I've lost sight of a lot of my joys, writing here, drawing horror, reading, video games and cheesy campy movies. It's time I do this for myself again, treat this as my journal, my physical notebook has been tainted by memories, memories that are too distant even for me. I spent too much of myself on a individual and not on myself, that is still why I am unhappy. For the time being, I'll choose who I want to be and what I want to do. I've been too fixed on someone else's version of me. I am too divine for anyone's own preconceptions.
I deserve better.
“To be bitter is to attribute intent and personality to the formless,
infinite, unchanging and unchangeable void. We drift on a chartless,
resistless sea. Let us sing when we can, and forget the rest..”
―
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