Then We’ll Come Down, Have a Hangover

Is it mature or cowardly, to try just enjoying the moment, immersing myself in it, savoring every second as if it could be gone in a heartbeat?

Because it can, you know, disappear without a trace or, even worse, leave a bloody evil fucking trail that will take ages to go through. I try not to think too much of the future possibilities of happiness or unhappiness, love or heartbreak, success or fail. I try not to promise myself anything because just having to think of the mere possibility of failure, of heartbreak and loss… it’s enough to drive anyone crazy.

I’m not being pessimistic. In fact I hate pessimistic thoughts, I loathe them. Really, I still hope for the best outcomes that can possibly occur. I still try to convince myself that everything will be alright and bloody brilliant in the end, but at the same time I always try to acknowledge the facts, try to remind myself that in the end, I can’t control everything. I can’t get everything I want simply by wanting and hoping for it. No one can.

Yes yes I must admit it’s some sort of form of self-protection I guess, but it’s a reasonable one. Why not enjoy what we have, right here, right now, just smile and hope for the best? Then even if, and I say this only as a possibility, things don’t go as we wished, we’d still feel glad we had the chance to feel, no matter how brief, those moments of sheer happiness.

I’m not saying this is how everyone should feel and think, and come on, I know for sure how often I can’t bring myself to think this way. But I try to, and no matter how cowardly and weak it seems to be, it’s just… easier.

I guess this is the ‘sensible’ me talking, slapping me in the face and taking over, ruining all the intoxicatingly reckless fun. Uptight little bitch. Why in the world do I have to be so impulsive and thoughtful at the same time?

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