Hey I have another Just thinking! Yay! Also, tomorrow is the three year anniversary of this blog, so I have a post lined up for then as well!

I think there comes a point where the memories don’t hurt anymore. Near the beginning they ache terribly because they remind you of what you’ve lost and how precious it was, but, as you go about your life, as you heal, you can enjoy them as what they were; Moments of absolute bliss. When you get there, you can safely let your mind go back to what you’ve been shielding it from, because it’s okay, it’s not dangerous anymore. It can actually bring you joy, to go back and remember how nice things were back then, and how happy you were. Memories don’t have to become tainted simply because things ended badly, they can exist as their own perfect moments. They don’t have to hurt.

Here’s another one of my Just thinking posts, and these are really very aptly named, because they really are just whatever I’m thinking about at that moment.

How do you pick out a good person from a crowd? It seems like you can always come up with excuses for people. If they never ask about you you can tell yourself that they’re busy and just forgot to check in. If they lash out you blame it on the things they’ve been going through lately, tell yourself that they’ll be back to normal later when this passes. If they’re using you you can tell yourself they aren’t really, that it’s you they want, but deep down you know it’s not true. So maybe it’s a deep down feeling you have to trust. Maybe whatever you feel in your heart, deep down past the blood pulsing through your veins, maybe that’s what you listen to. But can’t your heart be deceived as well? Isn’t it usually your heart that does the deceiving? If it is, then what are we doing telling little girls and boys to listen to their hearts when their hearts will only lead them on a path of pain and deceit? Why do we set them up for heartache from the very beginning? Because if we can’t pick out a good person from a crowd, then who are we to call ourselves good? 

Another one of these just thinking posts.

What a mystery I am. What a mystery this all is. The theories that are the foundations of our knowledge, the ideas we base all of our faith in, they could be proven wrong at any moment, and the people who came up with these ideas go from celebrated geniuses to ignorant idiots in 10 seconds flat. The colours we see might be completely different from those which our neighbours see, but we all call roses red and violets blue because that’s what we were taught. No one truly knows what went through Shakespeare’s mind as he wrote Romeo and Juliet, whether his choice to make the curtains blue signified sadness and inner turmoil or whether he was sitting outside as he wrote and happened to notice the colour of the sky. No one knows the workings of anyone’s head, whether they think of you constantly, or whether their “I miss you” texts are planned and set to lead you on. No one knows what people think and feel, or whether the smile they wear to work is carefully pasted on in front of a mirror every day. You’ll never know what was running through my head as I wrote this, or why it was written, just like you’ll never know whether your black is someone else’s white. Because really, who knows?

This was kind of just a calm rant. I might be doing more of these since I enjoyed writing it a lot. I was going to call it Later, but I thought that since I might write more in this style, I should have a universal title for them. Anyways, here’s Later.

(haha)

You know, there comes a point in life when things stop being fun. Now, I’m not saying this in a depressing sort of way, I just mean that at a certain point, everything needs to have a purpose. You can’t be wasting your time playing soccer if it won’t go on your college applications, and any and all passion for the arts is pushed to the side unless your target school will credit them. Because at that point, on the fateful day that we start to notice these things, our tunnel vision emerges. Everything we do, everything we think, everything we say, it’s all for one goal. Anything that’s just “fun” is cut out and seen as a colossal waste of time. We can’t simply enjoy ourselves, because, as we’ve all heard, there’ll be time for that later. Well I have a question….Yes, it’s important. How much later? Because honestly? I think that later keeps getting later and later until we’re on our deathbeds and we’re wondering when we did our living. It seems as though our now consists of planning for later, and our laters never come.