~ And It's Your Song That Comforts Me. (8)

So, you've hit rock bottom, but things have started to feel a bit positive? Because you're remembering all the little things that make you insanely happy? That's good, right?

But it can get better. Like, you force yourself to stay awake to watch the last episode of Season-3 of Breaking Bad, only to end up not watching it because you minimized VLC media player and noticed a Skype message and you wondered who in your contact list would be writing to you at this hour and then you see it's Preacherman. Yes, Preacherman, After all these months. Preacherman.
Am I mad? Of course I'm mad. It's who I am. I get mad at him. I mumble and grumble and relentlessly complain. This is just how it is.
So, it's 3:14 am. And I'm sitting here typing paragraphs after paragraphs, updating him as he asks about everything and everyone we both know. THIS is inspiration. And motivation. I don't know how. But it is. And I'm still mad at him. Whateverr.

~ Been This Way Since Eighteen. (8)

So, this has been a pending post. I was supposed to put it up a week ago, on the 31st of December, but I just was not feeling up to it back then.
Anyways. Now, I don't believe that a new year means a new beginning for everything and I don't think it's a fresh start or the perfect time to make changes. You can change your life tomorrow, in mid-June, for all anyone cares. It has been years since I stopped relying on a new year to change my life. To me, all that is changing since 1st January is the scribbled dates I write at the top-right corner of pages, over-writing a five on top of that four, for the first two months or so. Despite my indifference towards this new beginning theory, a part of me can't help but feel glad that 2014 is over. Not that the first week of 2015 has been any better, but still.

2014. The last year at school. The year completely spent in the absence of the Preacherman. The year of A2. The year of immense stress and failed deadlines. The year of A-levels results. The year of giving up. The year of failing the only "resolution" I had made with absolute good intention. The year of silent resentment, repeated disappointments and half-hearted birthday plans. The year of apathy and indifference. The year of diverged paths. The year of crazy schedules and impossible planning. The year of negative change. The year of The 8th July. The year of trauma. The year of time-outs and breaks and sedatives. The year of faltering hope. The year of feeling alone. The year of losing friends. The year of escaping Earth Club. The year of frustration. The year of white and not-so-white lies. The year of doubts and distrusting. The year of weariness. The year of forgetting to maintain the tradition of making ridiculous resolutions. The year ending with months of no contact with the Preacherman. The year without inspiration. The year without motivation. The year of losing touch with people. The year of little self-control. The year of poor judgement and bad choices. The year of enduring selfishness. The year of little patience. The year of lipophrenia. The year of the worst 31st in the history of 31sts.

2015 does not feel like anything new. The days kind of just bled into each other, like one very long day. Here's to hoping that the rest of the year proves to be different. Yeah, hoping. Still. Because, 2014 was a bad year. BUT. There were good times, bursts of inexplicable happiness, Infinite moments and amazing surprises. Yes, they're comparatively rare, but everything is not lost.