so, you try to live without emmiting a judgement, on what’s wrong and what’s right, like who’s wrong and who’s right, but hell. there comes a day like today when it’s impossible not to ask, who the hell is wrong?

because when things go wrong, you have to know why to go on and keep living in a better way. so. when i have more than 1 person telling me something, i start thinking i’m the one who’s wrong.

so, so far i’ve known 3 men. all of them judge me for certain things in my life. the ones you can’t just do anything about, … my past.
and here comes the Mr. Eko moment, the time to confess. and my confession is the same as his, that put and end to his life, and maybe to mine; i do not regret any single second of the life i’ve lived, because i did the best i could with what i was given.

i loved. i LOVED MOTHER FUCKERS. i gave my heart. i gave my soul. i gave my body. and everything i had. because i LOVED you suckers. do you even know what that is?

yeah i know you know. but how can you judge me for doing that? how can you say i’m bad or i’m good for that.

how can you close the door in my face like that, just because of what i did.

i know. i’m no saint. i’m not the best person in the world. i cannot forgive. my blood is dirty. i know, i’m noone to say what’s good or bad.
but i know what i feel. i know how it feels to be rejected for what you are. what you were. what you did. i know what it feels like to be rejected for a stereotype.

i know what it is, because i live with that every day. and only people that has been segregated and rejected could understand. but even if those men have been rejected for what they are, they still got the guts and the heart, to tear me to pieces for what i did.

and they don’t know a shit.

so,  who’s fucking fault?
i could blame them, i could opt to think they are assholes, and they are wrong for all the pain they still cause me. i could say they are sorry suckers that don’t know a thing about feelings. i could even wish them to feel this pain i have inside just to have a little idea, i could wish to be there when they cry of pain to kick them in the face like they have done.

also, i could blame me. i could accept their ideas, since it’s not one, they are 3 people, in different ways and times, telling me the same. i’m not worth their love. i’m not worth to be loved by a pure man, because i’m dirty, i’m so used and i deserve the trash.

so, what do you think?

my own self, tells me, i want to die, because i don’t want to live this dirty anymore. but my chemically-balance-thanks-to-medications brain tells me, i did my best, and this pain will go away, and i’ll give my heart again, to someone that would make me feel alive again.

isn’t it cute? how can no matter what, life be a complete mess without a meaning?

so

let’s talk about it.

I’ve got flu. I have boyfriend no more. My work is ok. I got an iPod and tons of Nivea products.

What can i say. Love is rather a thing. IS it real? i think it’s not.
Is it weakness? is it boredoom? is a creatio of our mind?

what is it? is it something real but that we try to create while we get there?

the thing about the love for me, is not the what. but the when. why before and not now. why now and not later. why later and not before.

when love?

is it a state? why is different for everyone. but kindness is not. why is love different but pain is not.

why am i just fed up of everything?
i the not depressing way of what i am?. If i’m not depressed the i just feel fed up, if i’m depressed i just feel like i wanna die? But is that escentially me?

i never thought of what i could find out of myself after depression. now i’m starting to get scared. Is this new me a better one, or a worse one?
was maclau a better person before when she was depressed and down?

so what’s coming up? dating someone else… i’m not really interested.
what do i want? just a me-me world?

when did i became this selfish bitch? is it something about someone or just the natural way of growing up?

who knows. who cares. me neither.