adult diapers
good memories are a reminder of how shitty we have turned out.
with after every break up, i try to erase memories of the relationship ever happening at all. it's cathartic to delete every single photo, video, and exchanges of communication that you ever had. it can be liberating to have the power to divest sentimental value from wonderful memories you created with your lover. however, by design, it's a one sided and myopic activity. i'm throwing stuff out of spite. i'm constantly justifying why it was indeed a good riddance without a reasoned reflection on what the situation actually was. i am the man on fire and it's by nature that i'm brash and that i destroy everything i touch.
but sometimes some things get through the cracks.
maybe sometimes google photos didn't do a perfect job of facial recognition, maybe sometimes i forget to sort my memories in the correct folders. but somehow they show up. seeing them now i hold a warm regard for the memories, especially in isolation. if it were only that one night we spent together, then it would have been magical. but life is a continuing narrative that doesn't end when it's supposed to if it adhered to established plot points. you're not always the hero, you're not always the villain, neither are you always even the central figure of the story.
and more often than i wish to admit, i'm a piece of shit.
a couple of cute photos, funny videos, and endearing exchanges may capture how good of a human being i can be. but it is what it is. they're moments. the slog through every single day of putting up with my less than ideal attitude is just as real but is very rarely documented. in the same manner that i'm capable of good things, i'm just as capable of being utterly insufferable. i don't necessarily wish that out of my system. reality has shaped my thinking enough times to realize that imperfections are a feature and not a bug of our very nature. but i do feel bad for those that have to deal with my failings. i feel bad for my family, i feel bad for my friends, i feel most especially bad for my former lovers. not so much with my enemies though, cause i don't have enough energy to waste it on them. i sincerely wish they could be with someone better than me. nevertheless, i still try to be better. i bite my tongue when i can preempt an objectionable remark from me, i pause when i feel i'm about to commit a faux pas. and that's the thing with me, i have to do less of the things i'm inclined to do to become better. i have to be less of who i am to become a better version of myself.
i'm all but resigned to the fact that i really am a piece of shit. i just have to try really really hard to not stain the other good things i got going for me. because no matter how hard i try, no amount of wiping can truly make me squeaky clean.
with after every break up, i try to erase memories of the relationship ever happening at all. it's cathartic to delete every single photo, video, and exchanges of communication that you ever had. it can be liberating to have the power to divest sentimental value from wonderful memories you created with your lover. however, by design, it's a one sided and myopic activity. i'm throwing stuff out of spite. i'm constantly justifying why it was indeed a good riddance without a reasoned reflection on what the situation actually was. i am the man on fire and it's by nature that i'm brash and that i destroy everything i touch.
but sometimes some things get through the cracks.
maybe sometimes google photos didn't do a perfect job of facial recognition, maybe sometimes i forget to sort my memories in the correct folders. but somehow they show up. seeing them now i hold a warm regard for the memories, especially in isolation. if it were only that one night we spent together, then it would have been magical. but life is a continuing narrative that doesn't end when it's supposed to if it adhered to established plot points. you're not always the hero, you're not always the villain, neither are you always even the central figure of the story.
and more often than i wish to admit, i'm a piece of shit.
a couple of cute photos, funny videos, and endearing exchanges may capture how good of a human being i can be. but it is what it is. they're moments. the slog through every single day of putting up with my less than ideal attitude is just as real but is very rarely documented. in the same manner that i'm capable of good things, i'm just as capable of being utterly insufferable. i don't necessarily wish that out of my system. reality has shaped my thinking enough times to realize that imperfections are a feature and not a bug of our very nature. but i do feel bad for those that have to deal with my failings. i feel bad for my family, i feel bad for my friends, i feel most especially bad for my former lovers. not so much with my enemies though, cause i don't have enough energy to waste it on them. i sincerely wish they could be with someone better than me. nevertheless, i still try to be better. i bite my tongue when i can preempt an objectionable remark from me, i pause when i feel i'm about to commit a faux pas. and that's the thing with me, i have to do less of the things i'm inclined to do to become better. i have to be less of who i am to become a better version of myself.
i'm all but resigned to the fact that i really am a piece of shit. i just have to try really really hard to not stain the other good things i got going for me. because no matter how hard i try, no amount of wiping can truly make me squeaky clean.
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