domingo, 3 de febrero de 2013

_Lost in translation_

I wonder if to grow up means being more and more confused every day.
Or if it means that you learn to understand your own confussions and act on the conclusions you make out of them, even if you dislike the answers you find and therefore, the actions you must undertake. 

All I know is that I've grown to make sense of most of my confussions, after a whole life of getting to know myself. 
And even so, I let my confussions live happily as they are. 
I don't solve them. 

I guess that if I do so is because I feel in control of their outcomes. A kind of controlled chaos.
It's only sometimes that I worry about letting my own confussions continue being so. 
That's when I think I might lose control. 
And losing control means one thing over any other: getting hurt. 
For a person that has avoided pain ever since she has a memory, that's a greater risk than she possibly can handle. 

And still...

There are many ways of getting hurt. 
One can be hurt in one's pride, betrayed, hurt in the heart... 
The funny thing is, that even if this situation would be one to be worrying about getting hurt otherwise, my worry is getting hurt in my pride. 
After all, I am a proud person. 

I think I might be becoming quite detached for my own sake.
Or maybe that apparent detachment is just an outcome of becoming more and more aware of what I really seek for in life. 
Maybe I'm not up to wasting my time anymore.
Or maybe I'm just making excuses to avoid getting hurt while I'm reminded of the thing I most dislike about myself.

I can only guess it's a mixture of everything.
But then again, who knows... 

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