“A thought is harmless unless we believe it. It’s not our thoughts, but the attachment to our thoughts, that causes suffering. Attaching to a thought means believing that it’s true, without inquiring. A belief is a thought that we’ve been attaching to, often for years.”
The other week I decided that disappointment is all inside your head.That what you expect from the world, when you let your imagination run wild all around the world and then what is written in the stars lets you down — none of it is the slightest bit real. It is one of those instances where emotions outshine reality* when it should be the other way around. But *by reality I mean fantasy and really it is okay to daydream every damn day so long as you don’t let yourself fill up with too much sorrow when it doesn’t happen exactly how it does in your handwritten fairytale.
Maybe the magic is where you were when you were all there. The magic wasn’t then and it isn’t to come, but it is here where you are right now. There it is, that moment you wake up and wonder where you are. It’s there when you wander the aisles at the supermarket. It’s there out in the big bad world when you look up and see somebody looking at you, acknowledging your presence. It’s there a split second before and after you let yourself feel bitter at the chill of everybody else and their misunderstanding and your misunderstanding of them.
You don’t have to remember compassion all the time, but just once in awhile and you’ll be just fine. Animosity is just a symptom of fallacy :: you don’t understand and you forgot to slide off your sneakers and slip your feet into their shoes. I forget, all too often, my core belief that you’ll never truly, intimately, be able to comprehend the intentions of others and for that reason alone, you have little place to judge their motivation and moral. I’m sorry for every occasion that I didn’t remember where you were coming from, I’m sorry for every time I let my intuition trump my intelligence. But you didn’t know, or even care to know, how much those moments meant to me.
Every night, every day, every cigarette, every sideways glance, every text message, everyday. That shiver as soon as I wake up, with a chill that would last for hours, has only just started to subside and there you go again. I’ve always said that finality in an actual form is an extremely rare occurrence, but now I’m pretty close to done. This conclusion has little to do with that infinity, and more to do with fear. It's terrifying to be misunderstood, to speak words that make sense only to you. Fingers crossed this fear inspires a little more patience than yesterday, and a little more empathy than yester-year.
