What Weight Should I Be At 13 Years Old Girl Regarding The Pain Of Others

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Regarding The Pain Of Others

I’m going to fall in love with someone else, marry someone else, maybe he’ll have kids, kids grown up, so it won’t be so tragic that I don’t have kids, and I won’t fall in love with ghosts like I’ve been for the past twelve years. And you, your memory of Robert is as vivid as raindrops. It doesn’t hurt, I can still see you smiling, all I can do is ask myself why it won’t go away.

cape town

I mean it’s as if the boys never came to the house (handsome boys with beautiful hair and bright eyes, they just want to talk and talk and talk, all I have to do is listen, it’s the easiest thing in this world with those who love themselves people, and all I want to do is go back, back to you, back to the streets of Johannesburg, that winter, that autumn).

All I can think about right now is you. I’m not the same, you’re not the same, you have a life and I don’t. You can stay up late, I need a routine. you have a family. I long for one. You won’t talk to me even in my dreams I try to forget that my life is perfect and I’m doing fine and I have a friend who makes me laugh and forget that I’m sick and tired of being sad and tired To be different, to be alone. Do you want to live an ordinary life? I was never a good time girl. I was never the kind of girl who was good enough for you, for your family, for your image. It’s funny when you love someone, all, I mean all the details that come together and I’ve spent a long time thinking about those details. Oh, the plan in there, how it all fit together. Marry someone else, that’s a good idea, but I don’t want to do that because who’s going to put up with me, suicidal disease, who’s going to know when I have to take this, when I have to take that, that I have to go through Take long, refreshing walks and hot baths, and get a cat or a dog.

You must be very extraordinary, very perfect, attractive, smart and beautiful, sensitive and very intelligent, brutal, violent, aggressive, bossy, introverted leader (oh, men can be beautiful too, many things, wonderful things) to be talented To have a muse, to give me such an impression, my mental frame, to someone so young, so inexperienced. I don’t want to really love anyone. There. I said that. You will have to suffer me to appear from now on and then disappear from your life, from the pages of books, poems, newspapers and magazines, quickly out of sight, out of the landscapes I create in my own imagination, painted there , as if you were my property, even if only for a while, that’s enough for me. You see, for a short period of time, a few months really you handed the world over to me when no one has ever done it for me in my life (I’m not that young anymore and I’m tired of it just walk around waiting for someone to come and repeat what you do), usually I’m just quiet, invisible, outsider, introverted, which is always fine with me. I don’t want you to see me like this. Times have changed, and I have changed with them.

I don’t know what lust means, being a second sex, being feminine and being pretty (all those words sound cute, don’t they). I was so young when I met you. I was wimpy, I didn’t follow my instincts all the time, I wasn’t very strong, I didn’t have courage, but I never forgot you. I want you to know, even now. I don’t want you to see me like this. I’m not strong enough to face the world alone again, to confront the world head-on. Have you noticed that I speak less arrogantly than I did twelve years ago? I learned a lot, mainly from you. I did learn a lot from you, you know, sometimes you were kind to me, very kind and patient. I’m tired of loving the world so much. Sometimes I care too much because the world is so cruel and dangerous, full of ravenous sharks, hungry lions and tigers, but I still dream, some nights I dream about you, but more often I think about how much I love you memory. And the memory is very good. My memory of you is so bright it burns my eyes and makes me breathless (funny how the flat and simple things that happen to you in life make me breathless when people are kind to you). I must need you somehow. Isn’t the subconscious mind talking when you dream? When I think of you, it’s like I’ve inherited something wonderful from an otherworldly place.

Of course I only know how to hurt people and not love them because that’s all I know about life, family life, the earth, my surroundings, but plants and animals are somehow different and I think you know that too . Once I wanted to be perfect, when I was young, when I wasn’t sick, the wheel, the fine and intricate network of my brain’s navigating compass, all those fine lines that were within the bounds of not being carefully tended to. I didn’t know what the word love meant until I met you twelve years ago. Love is like driftwood. When placed in the hands of a craftsman, it is a precious commodity. If it weren’t for you, I still wouldn’t know much about the world. I don’t know what love and independence is, how strong a man can be in the workplace when he works hard day in and day out for his wife, kids and family, community, what risks does he put at risk if he is in crisis? Lose everything. If I hadn’t met you, I’d still be sad and lonely. I still feel vulnerable among the good-time girls who circle me with feathered, perfumed hair. I have lungs. i have wings. I uncovered knowledge and intuition and walked toward the light in the blue sky. Yes, there is a light within me, a raw energy. I am a new woman. look at me now. I write novels. what is love? I look at parents who sleep in separate beds and I see love. I look at my brother and his pregnant girlfriend and I see love. How could I ever forget you once you were mine, your smile, your laugh, your hunched shoulders, your neck, the unexpected jet-black hair you turned to look at me.

You tell Louise how I make your tea. What exactly is love? Does that mean taking care of someone who needs care, is sick, needs love, needs healing? This is enough. It’s enough to keep a safe distance from you, you can’t see how I’m wasting away. Dopamine and serotonin dance through the center of my brain in a dance you can’t see nervous breakdown, secret diary of lithium (the magic salt), how it used to line my blood vessels, the insides of my body until I gave up, surrendered, quit. Where you can’t hear I can hear, caged singing wants to crush my spirit, where you can’t see I can see hallucinations, moving colored bright lights, I just want to sleep or read My hair gets damp at the nape of my neck while Ben looks at the steam in the bathroom mirror while reading a book or taking a hot bath. How I miss my old self, but I often ask myself who is she, this dream catcher, dreamy Lolita, skinny closet skeleton? What sense does she have of the world around her, is it a peaceful hideaway? I am ashamed now. Please don’t look at me. I don’t think I can take it and my heart is being x-rayed. I just want to write it down to let you know someone far away is thinking of you, your dreams.

It’s your vibe, I don’t belong. Cowards and sick people don’t belong here, nor do those raging lunatics who, in their hypomania, cannot string clear words together. I’ve adapted to being away from crowds, crowds, foot traffic, rush hour, and cars. I prefer rivers, lakes, streams, pollution (breathe ashes, cigarettes or smoke from factories, industrial areas of towns where they make cars and tires, there’s a chocolate factory right next to a factory that makes ice cream, you see This is where I live now, calm and composed). I trust God now, in writing, my mother’s wisdom, my father’s words and deeds, so I respect them. I believe in going to church and reading my bible. I stay up late. I no longer watch horror movies and Dreamworld of the Dead or old movies about zombies. They scare me. I don’t deal with people. They scare me. Their “desire” scares me. How they want to give up their taboos. How bold they think they have the right to live without limits, how they have no flaws, how they can do what they love, how they think they are beautiful because they are loved when no one told them first. You are beautiful because you are loved. Many have waited their entire lives to hear these words.

I don’t believe in love stories, but I watch them anyway. Sometimes I am moved to tears. Sometimes I laugh because I connect with the characters. Even though I’ve only been in love once in my short life, I can understand them. I think once might be enough to get you through a lifetime. By now you’ve moved on and so have I. Your ghost is still here. You have someone the world is waiting for. I have “my little family” (summaries, performances, my characters and metaphors in my poetry, and of course my library, all the books I’ve collected over the years). Instead of you, I have Rilke. I prefer the voice of silence after the role conflict played in my life, childhood, and personality development. I prefer the sounds of rain, nature and birds. I prefer the silence in my bedroom, in all interiors of the house, if the tv has to be on then it has to be on the news channel but on a low volume so that it satisfies my subconscious but not too loud, This way it makes a sound. I learned how to control my emotions. I know how to sit quietly in a room, dreaming, but not dreaming, but meditating. Meditate on mantras or chakras and be aware of what drives those things that strengthen humanity, social cohesion in Southern African communities, what it really means to perceive the accumulation of loss, when you experience the first emotions of conflict, what goes on in your head Rising sadness, a serious character, relatable opinions, and of course the behavioral basis that someone (the realigned character) has to work really hard to get her life organized.

Robert, I’ve watched you from afar my whole life, and I finally feel like I’ve had a huge weight off my shoulders that I really shouldn’t have been allowed to carry in the first place. You never came to me. What does long for company mean? At best you put up with me. I can see this clearly now and I can smile too. You are a tracked dream, a psychological invention that I think of when I need a direction of purpose. You don’t love me, not that kind of love, not that kind of love. Seriously, what was I thinking, so young, so brave, those unbalanced patterns that have gathered, sharpened themselves, weaved a magic spell in the fiery, bright eyes of my head, wasting your time? It’s really just a waste of everyone’s time. time flies. The memory changes instantly. Here’s the thing. I admire you. I’ve been dreaming about you all my life. Every night you are a different person. You have different names, different faces, I met you in different places. I brush it off every morning and put away the old stuff like dust.

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