smallcocoa's corner

  What does it mean to be painfully mediocre? It could mean that, yes, you’re familiar with the fact that, most people aren’t exactly special, but if there was a hierarchy or something of that nature, you’re bottom barrel. That is just what you think of yourself. Combine painfully mediocre with a lack of motivation and what do you get? A very sad life. While you see everyone around you moving forward despite the fact that you believe everyone is cursed with some form of mediocrity, you are still not at all, even slightly pushed to follow suit. Even money doesn’t motivate you and at that point, you’re convinced this is definitely a serious problem; like "your life could seriously go only downhill" level of serious problem. What do you do? You seek help; as is the natural step. Everything you hear or see is nothing you haven’t heard or seen before. Nevertheless, you try it out. You remember that, oh! I have this one thing I like and I think I can get less average at and...

  When things don’t work out, When everything ends up in the gutter, What do you do? You close your eyes, Imagine it did, Explore the different possibilities, Smile because you imagine how happy you would have been, Hurt yourself with thinking about how perfect everything could have been, And then you open your eyes again to your painful reality, Be momentarily knocked out by how you can’t change anything, And go back to going through the motions.

The death of a loved one  doesn’t come at you fast; the effects are largely delayed. The only sudden thing about it is the initial shock that whole day, and after that, it’s an out of body—out of mind, even—experience. You don’t fully realize that you’ve lost this person; that you’ll never see said person ever again, except in your own head. At some point, you’d start using things to comfort yourself—unknowingly might I add. These things are excuses your brain might unconsciously give for such person’s sudden absence from your life. At that same point in time, you realize that these are indeed just excuses, but even then, your brain doesn’t fully register your experience. You still want to desperately hold on to those excuses for comfort. Somewhere deep within, you’re just afraid to face the truth; this person actually died, left the earth, never to ever return. You have to learn to live without them. The pain comes, and so you do nothing but rush back up to the surface; “he travel...