sleep well

Listen.

You’re not wrong for enjoying times with guys. Not all of them are going to last more than memories of a good night. Not all of them will ask for your number. Not all of them will talk to you the morning after. And even if they still do all these things, not all of them will keep talking to you, unless fate smiles upon you and you meet again.

You see you’re young, and being young means having a good time without any attachments, and yet having a good time without being reckless. It means exploring your tastes, diving in deeper into conversations, satire and minds you have never seen before, opening yourself up to a myriad of tumultuous experiences that should shake you up from rock bottom, or leave you where it found you.

Don’t try to hold on so tightly to anything. Just be easy and let it go. Enjoy it for what it is and let it go. Do your own thing, explore in your own way. Don’t be limited in your thought and yet, do not be too generous with it.

Having a boyfriend is okay. Dating is okay. Having a casual fling is okay. As long as your dignity, priorities and self-interests are not compromised, you should have a good time. You should be reserved enough to really highlight the moments when you let your hair down. Be economic with your speech, think before you say it and then when you do, speak to make impressions. When you dance, dance wholeheartedly, warm up a bit, and then really push at the boundaries, don’t be afraid to go for it. It’s a dance, it’s making up for what you can’t say in words, or do with actions.

Don’t feel like you’re constrained. Be open. Be mature. Be bold. Your confidence is beautiful and so are you. You’re only as good as you think you are. You deserve to feel good, as long as you work for it. And you are working for it, so don’t be afraid to be assertive, flirt a little and have some fun.

You’re young. You’re young. You’re young.

This is not psychology

I think time was contracted to run faster as we got older. Or maybe we just got busier, we got heavier, we got slower.

Every day seems to move at a different pace bringing me new things every moment.

Every year seems to whitewash the last, a whole year of inescapable bubbles I found myself in, is pushed to the back of the shelf. Further and further till I have forgotten what those feelings were like.

The people that were a part of my life, the music that filled in the spaces when silence was nowhere around to quieten down the restlessness of a childhood passed from hand to hand.

I’m afraid that as we move into our futures, we lose our chances when we quarrel, when we slur against each other, when we are separated. When we are hurt, we start turning away from the world, we start turning our backs on our parents, and our siblings and we choose to forget them. We forget to take them along to share in our moments.

I know there are some things I need to experience for myself and I will, gladly. Space is something we all crave but at the same time, as easy as we demand it, that’s how quickly we want it to disappear. We try and wish it away, but we still feel cornered by what we have asked for.

I’m afraid that when I look into the future, I won’t see the people I love because I would have forgotten to love them. I would have just gotten angrier and angrier that they couldn’t understand me, how I grew and why I turned out to be the way I am. I forget that I didn’t give them the time of day, I didn’t let them care about me because when they tried, I didn’t explain. I didn’t want to take the effort with them. Instead, I wasted my time with strangers and people that took me for granted. I chose to tell them when they couldn’t care less about me or what would happen to me.

I told them anyway. Because telling them was easier, facing them felt lighter and talking to them, reaching out to them I did quicker than searching for the caring in my own blood.

I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to be detached. We all have to move on. But we don’t have to forget. I want to learn from them as much as I can. I don’t want to have to regret that I wouldn’t know what they’d say or how they’d feel. They are not my enemies. These are people that had lives before I happened. These are people that made plenty of their own mistakes. These are people that tried to be right and sacrificed who they were for me, so I could grow.

Who shut up, so I could rant. Who got hurt, so I didn’t have to.

But I did, I still did. Even after you stood to try and protect me, you didn’t protect me from yourself. I didn’t think it would occur to you how important you were. But now you do, you are what I know of love, sacrifice, pain, and strength.