i hate how my only inspiration for writing is when i’m in a not so happy state of mind. I mean, i’m perfectly content now, but the content of my written posts (see what she did) are usually kinda the lesson-learned, dull-days type. Well, this wont disappoint.
Normally i look at “firsts” with eager eyes, but my “first” of having those hawk-eyed, teacher-eyed, daggers gun me down on false assumptions is definitely. A. First. Aesop’s Fables has always been my childhood favorite book (or, collection of stories put together in a book. namsayn), so the fact that i mentioned that in relation to a single line in Sophocles’ Antigone automatically means I took this off somewhere, right? Cause people couldn’t have similar thoughts? I don’t even care enough about schoolwork to have to go find other sources, let alone claim someone else’s idea as my own. One thing i have a fuckfull of pride in is my mind, my thoughts, and my zigzagged road from Point A to Point B.
Regardless of that, I’m so grateful for kind hearts. I’m the type to be strong as hell until someone asks me what’s wrong, and then the stacks just tumble down, the walls just crack. That tip-off of the domino trail. As much as i tried to hide my distress, friends noticed that .001% less happy me. Going home and seeing texts from others asking how i am, it’s an irreplaceable feeling that i wouldn’t trade all the sunrises in the world for. The feeling of true care and compassion, from those that know you well, and those that barely know you. Over something unknown to them. The triviality and possibility of just a bad day. Today was that reach of the hand. I love my friends. I love kind hearts.