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Sunday, April 13, 2014 | 9:14 PM | 0 comments (+)
The thing about my blog is, the depressive posts have been piling up they took over the happy posts. But I am not. I am not depressed. My blog doesn't always imply who I am. I believe it's to early to draw a conclusion of who I am from just what I've written. You should've read my drafts too. And my unpublished posts. And the texts I've deleted. Maybe you should.
I write only when I'm bloated inside. That I should let go of something so it wouldn't hurt anymore, or at least would help me to ease. Like today. On how I fail to stay nice without expecting anything in return. I fail to push my ego that far. It's on the pattern that I would end up blaming myself for being selfish and not nice enough. And selfishness brings me guilty. And guilty affects my stability, which is far from good.
Nevertheless, on other days than today, I'm usually bright. But on those beautiful days, I don't write. They bring me smiles, but not words. I ever tried to write when I was happy, then I sounded cheezy and insane, and I couldn't stand as I sounded so dumb hahaha. So that concludes my happy days aren't reflected in this blog. Furthermore, I lately only write one or two posts a month. So that puts my average happy days per month equals to 28-29 days. Vania is happy with her life. She just doesn't write much about being happy. I guess that's the only problem to fix.