I’ve been listening to “Too Good” by Drake all day on repeat. I’d post it, but there’s some bullshit copyrights that don’t let me clip a video yet… Nothing irks me like a greedy “Artist”.
If there’s one thing heartbreak has taught me, don’t waste time worrying about it. I used to believe there was a particular romantic merit in having your heart ripped out and eternally suffering about it.
Then I survived my heart getting slaughtered. Again. And again. Eventually, it gets really boring.
I promised myself to stop getting so caught up. I can unconditionally love everything, but I’m not allowed to pay attention to any one creature individually. It’s cool, I feel like there’s some sort of karmic debt I’m limping out when it comes to my “personal” “relationships”.
I’m having dinner with someone special on Thursday. I’m glad I’ve gotten so good at riding life out. One thing I’ve learned for definite in my 37 years on the planet this time – nothing is definite.
There’s a near satisfaction in getting fucked over. In addition to the lesson I’ll eventually wear like a transparent scarlet letter, I understand that some things really are less than a grain of salt. Some things end up meaning nothing at all.