Sometimes I really wish I didn’t have a conscious. Why am I writing at this hour on a Saturday night? I had plenty of options: concert, bonfire at the beach in Coronado, hanging out with friends. I chose to stay at home and do absolutely nothing. What’s this have to do with having a conscious you ask?
I’ve made quite a few grown up choices this week. I put things other people before myself, and have taken a few steps back.
I am becoming more and more numb to dealing with bullshit. The fiasco of a few weeks ago took a bit of a toll on me- in ways that I don’t even want to get into. Unfortunately it’s seeping into my present, and even the future.
I’ve let go. I got out what I needed to say. I accomplished what I needed to with those people and left the book closed yet still partially open.
These things.. these people.. were important. But it was time for them to fade into the background. Or maybe it was my time to do that for them.
By my own accord, I did the right thing.
Strangely not a bad thing, nor a good thing.
I didn’t think that I’d feel this way.
Does this make me boring or a grown up? Can one really be one without the other?
Is it possible to still dream of someone, yet respect them enough to let them go?
Goodbye my dears.
Well.. except maybe for you mr you know who.