Are things worth fighting for after the fight has already been lost and you're stuck in the losing ring completely distressed and hopeless?
This sounds like the beginning of a whiney blog by an adolescent 13 year old girl who thinks she has profound thoughts on life love and hugs and kisses. So excuse me for this coming post.
Here are my thoughts: Maybe in the end it could be worth it to keep on fighting, but it's always disappointing. Lately I've found a new pessimistic view that reeks havoc on everything I used to find ideal. My mantra of "whatever should happen will in due time" has changed to "if you don't and won't jump on an opportunity given to you, you can cry about it months after and think about what you could've had."
Ever since I've played with heartbreak and fire, I've built this amazing, impenetrable fortress. My friends laugh because as soon as I have some boy dish out their feelings on a silver platter, I hose down the plate with my residual fear and insecurities then sell the silver plate for cute shoes and accessories.
Then, finally. It hits. A comet crashes down upon me and turns my heart of stone into a heart of flesh.
And as soon I'm finally able to fight again: BOOM! Knocked down and out. As I'm down, I get kicked in the ribs and in the stomach and in the head and in the heart. I ache all over as I ponder in all my pain and in my blurred vision, maybe the comet was a ball of karma out to get me for every single bad thing I've done.
The fortress is always easier to build a second time around.
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