Petrol station time wasting post


The best people are those who make you feel damn comfortable when you’re around them. The people that make everything feel natural and easy. Not too many explanations, no hidden meanings, no pretending.

I mean this is the way it should be. We choose out of tons of people a few that we call our friends, and it should be natural to just be ourselves around them. I love these people that make me feel like “yeah, everything is cool and easy, and I can open my heart and my brain to you”.

A lot of people lost trust. In everything, man. They just built walls so high around them and it’s almost impossible to open up again. That’s the fuckery of this world. We lose ourselves inside ourselves. No window through these walls and no chance for a door.

Most pople are like “you need to stop opening up, you need to stop sharing everything, you need to be mean, to be tough, to not give a shit, to hide, to stop caring, etc”. And all I think is “WHY?”

Fuck it, you don’t live my life. Why would anybody care. Why? I am who I want to be. And hell no, I’m not stupid. And if I am, at the end of the day it’s my burden to deal with. I hate being somebody that I’m not. If i’m enjoying, damn sure you’ll see it, if I’m happy you’ll see my smile like the Ecuador. If I want something, let me have it. The way I want it, not the way you want it.

Coming back to people that make me feel myself. Man, you have to agree that it’s so easy when you meet somebody and you can talk about things with honesty. When you can admit to everything without feeling that you’re being punished. When you can admit that you’re wrong without feeling guilty. When you can admit that you’re weak, that you’re frustrated, that your fuckin life is nothig you ever imagine it will be. It’s ok. It’s just fine. As long as you are finding peace within yourself and you can sleep at night, then screw everything else. Who will remember all this bullshit in the freakin afterlife?

And even if they do, then you’re a legend my friend. You did some epic shit in your life and most important you did whatever the hell you felt like. That’s freedom, that’s power, that’s you conquering all you goddamn fears. That’s next level shit.

Go for whatever the hell you want. We don’t live forever except the memory of others and only some of us will ve remembered.

You think I hide behind excuses? If I want to hide then you’ll never find out. Do you think I can’t make something disappear? But I choose not to do it. Simple as that.

I want something, I go for it. And one day when I’ll look back, with white hair and a wrinkled face, I’ll still have that sparkle in my eyes of a life fully lived. With good and bad. With everything in it. And I will live a long life, because it’s not meant to be forgotten too fast. I’m meant to sit in a rocking chair on a porch and smile when I look back in time.

Please God don’t send me Alzheimer’s.

So this is my vision. Wrong or right who cares? If you care you shouldn’t.

And then there are those people who raise that fuckin eyebrow up their forehead when they see you having fun and enjoying your life (and I’m talking here about close friends too) like they know better, like they know everything in life. First of all if you’re a friend be a friend till the end. I never stopped anybody from enjoying, from being unappologetically happy. Let’s be more supportive to being happy than being judgemental.

Let me smile because there were so many nights when I cried my heart out and I cursed the life inside my veins. There were way too many moments when I was ready to give up on everything and no, I don’t to tell about my life and I don’t need to have a sad look on my face for you to believe me. I went through shit that most of the people can’t even imagine. I know sadness in some of the deepest forms. In the shape of people and demons. In the depth of my heart, ripping apart my soul, my existence.

But I replaced it with this will of being alive and happy. I locked everything traumatizing inside myself and I decided to forget about it. It’s not that easy and you can call it a defence mechanism, you can call it a freudian shit or whatever you want but as long as it works i’m fine with it.

Anyway, it’s late. Arming myself.

It’s all love and late night petrol station writing shenanigans. Peace!

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