Sunday is the day before Monday. And since Monday is the worst day of the week, Sunday is per automatic the second worst.
A long time ago they didn’t have weeks or months. Or well, they probably could keep track of the months by watching the moon and the time between girls periods. And the years were easy when you would take a look at the trees and the ground and the temperature changing in a specific pattern. And days is like an obvious conclusion. But weeks? That was probably not a thing until Christianity was invented. Okay, I won’t say invented, because it may as well already have been there, with God. But people didn’t start following weeks before they discovered it, invented it, got it... you can use whatever words you want. Your faith in things is entirely yours. I myself doesn’t have a belief in anything. I think all the different ideas people have could be possible, or maybe none of them are. Maybe parts of truth lie in them. It can never get proved, so as long as the things you believe in is harmless I think it’s beautiful that you have found something your heart beats for and you can live your life after.
Okay, why am I even saying this? I don’t need to explain my pro-every living thing to you. You probably already agree to this. It’s not like I need to convince you that it’s good, because if you believe in basic human rights you know that it is.
This made me think of something a little encouraging that I tripped over a few days ago. If you didn’t know this already, I am happy to inform you.
“People who doubt their intelligence have no reason to, because one of the strongest signs someone’s stupid is that they never question anything. They are always so dumb sure about every decision they make. And it’s the same thing when it comes to the reasons behind the decisions. People who worry that they aren’t good people have nothing to worry about, because a strong sign that you’re evil is that you never worry that you are, because it wouldn’t matter to you.”
I think I messed it up, but I love this message and I wanted to share it with you. When we’re still at encouragements, as it is a Sunday and I try to keep the usual anxiety away, you need to hear something. It’s a poem, and it is helping. It helped me at least.
“You are not your age
Nor the size of clothes you wear
You are not your weight
Or the colour of your hair
You are not your name
Or the dimples in your cheeks
You are all the books you read
And all the words you speak
You are your croaky morning voice
And the smiles you try to hide
You’re the sweetness in your laughter
And every tear you’ve cried
You are the songs you sing so loudly
When you know you’re all alone
You are the places that you’ve been to
And the one that you call home
You are the things that you believe in
And the people that you love
You’re the photos in your bedroom
And the future you dream of
You’re made of so much beauty
But it seems that you forgot
When you decided that you were defined
By all the things you’re not”
Love yourself respectfully♥️
So, what else then? I won’t even comment this one, because it’s touching every human in a special way. I won’t mark your. I don’t even know what to say in anything else. When I opened the account today my mind was empty. Like in the title, this Sunday is forgettable, I won’t remember it in a week. It just passed. And when I realised that, the emptiness, I remembered why I started this blog. Vaguely, my memory is like an old person’s. I needed to find something. A reason to keep going when it felt like I was standing still. I haven’t talked about that for a while. Maybe I should update you?
Okay, this is what have happened:
Not. A. Single. Thing.
My life passes without heading forward. I run and I run and I run but I am stuck, no matter how hard I work I can’t get anywhere. That is how I feel. I am not trying to “find” something, because it have already slipped away. It wouldn’t have come to use. It’s like I before was in the dusk. It was just fog and shadows, not black but more grey. I wanted a flashlight to show up, to make me see the path again.
Now it’s midnight. It’s entirely black. Sometimes I can see the stars, the beautiful stars shining up the sky, but even though they make me feel less lonely, I still can’t reach them. They are there for me but unable to help. And a flashlight would just drown in the darkness. Swallowed.
I don’t know if dawn will reach me. Better be anytime soon. Otherwise the darkness might sing me slowly into sleep. I have already begun closing my eyes.
Okay, I have realised that a lot of times end posts with me suggesting suicide is the only escape. But it’s because I treat them like days. I wake up and are confused, I go through a colourless or colourful day, usually both, and then end with crying or anxiety and the choice is between sleeping or a forever rest. Every time I come back it’s like in that animated movie with the cage people. For every danger, they always snuck their heads up into the sunlight and yelled “Still alive!” or something. Every day that passes is a success. Every evening a danger. But when I wake up in the morning, a little confused and really sleepy, I am happy that I’m still alive.
Bye for today.