Sense

Life is confusing most of the time, and I guess that’s the point. That’s what makes some things make sense – the fact so many other things don’t. That I can cry myself to sleep one night and laugh til I cry the next night. That I can spend a week in a hermit- like state then go out til three a.m. that weekend. That my heart can be so sad for no apparent reason, but so full of joy for even having this moment I’m existing in right now.

None of it makes sense.

I tend to overanalyze everything. Well, I actually tend to make decisions without thinking about them and then have a whirlwind moment where suddenly I realize I haven’t thought anything through. But I’m trying to stop. To just do and not think so much. Because it’s never going to make sense. I’m never going to understand. Because that’s the point. Because maybe in some of these moments – when I’m trying to figure out a little bit of why I did something or why another thing happened – I can feel something. I can feel joy and pain and sadness and happiness and love and heartbreak. Because those feelings – those are the point, I think.

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