Hmm..
It gets harder to write, but I'll try to write anyway.
Thank you to the two people (whom I don't know who, but I think I might have a slight idea of who they are) who left a comment on my previous post. I am not writing for people to read, but knowing that someone did read my writings is a kind of happiness as well.
But, I think, no one should be okay with other people using their pain to comfort others. I do believe everyone actually wants to be understood. Some people just do not know how to let others know. And I guess, that was how I started writing in the first place. I wanted to be understood.
Being loved is a good thing, but being understood is something that I think is way more precious. Whether we want to admit it or not, we are somehow complicated human beings. To have another soul who is able to understood you is a blessing that I think not many can recognize to not take it for granted. Am I saying something complicated again?
To the very few people who are reading this, how has life been treating you? Does life treat you well? Are you facing difficult situations which you have no idea on how you would tackle those? Or are you fighting against the situations that life put you in, something that you are still unable to come to terms with?
Knowing that I am not alone in this fight against life is sort of a comfort. But then again, why am I fighting against life? Will there come a day that I will be able to accept everything willingly?
I have changed. I know that. People who used to know the old me know that. It is not something I am proud of. But pretending that I am still the old me is also a tiring thing to do. Somehow, I changed. From better to worse. And I think, first of all, I have to come to terms with it. I have to accept that I changed, and I only have myself that I can hold accountable of for my change. And it has nothing to do with all those judgemental eyes out there. Or maybe, people are busy with their life that they also have no time to judge you, everything is only in your mind, Shiela.
It gets harder to write, but I'll try to write anyway.
Thank you to the two people (whom I don't know who, but I think I might have a slight idea of who they are) who left a comment on my previous post. I am not writing for people to read, but knowing that someone did read my writings is a kind of happiness as well.
But, I think, no one should be okay with other people using their pain to comfort others. I do believe everyone actually wants to be understood. Some people just do not know how to let others know. And I guess, that was how I started writing in the first place. I wanted to be understood.
Being loved is a good thing, but being understood is something that I think is way more precious. Whether we want to admit it or not, we are somehow complicated human beings. To have another soul who is able to understood you is a blessing that I think not many can recognize to not take it for granted. Am I saying something complicated again?
To the very few people who are reading this, how has life been treating you? Does life treat you well? Are you facing difficult situations which you have no idea on how you would tackle those? Or are you fighting against the situations that life put you in, something that you are still unable to come to terms with?
Knowing that I am not alone in this fight against life is sort of a comfort. But then again, why am I fighting against life? Will there come a day that I will be able to accept everything willingly?
I have changed. I know that. People who used to know the old me know that. It is not something I am proud of. But pretending that I am still the old me is also a tiring thing to do. Somehow, I changed. From better to worse. And I think, first of all, I have to come to terms with it. I have to accept that I changed, and I only have myself that I can hold accountable of for my change. And it has nothing to do with all those judgemental eyes out there. Or maybe, people are busy with their life that they also have no time to judge you, everything is only in your mind, Shiela.
