maybe, maturity is finding other ways to get what you want instead of wailing and sobbing, in dark corners.
maybe, maturity is letting go, when what you want, does not want you back.
maybe, it’s all a distraction from the truest self, to a settled version of one’s self, for the sake of avoiding the void.
maybe, love is knowing the love song is about me and not you.
maybe, love is like an orgasm, for a time. a blissful time, holding on to the edge and every other thrill seeking moment, is just a chase after cliff hanging orgasms that could be like love.
maybe, love is giving support and encouragement to me, first.
maybe, life and love should be taken in moments and not doses, decades and life spans.
maybe, the good moments, ones that make you want to hold on to tree branches because it’s too good to be true and you’re flying too high up and away so surely gravity will drop your body to its bloody death. that good moment being enjoyed entirely alone is the sign of true freedom and maturity.
maybe, maturity is being able to smile because it could always be worse. knowing how to smile, because it isn’t.
don’t mind me. i’m just thinking out loud.