And So It Goes

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Thought Catalog
Thought Catalog

Here is the scene: I’m in a beach town in Mexico, sitting at a table with a group of people from all over the world. The air is warm and smells like the ocean. I’m on the end of a trip I took to celebrate my 30th birthday. The drinks are flowing and Drake’s Take Care is playing on the speakers. The majority of the table is from Sweden. The rest are from Australia, Ireland, Canada, Sri Lanka, and Argentina.

We’ve been sitting here together for a few hours but I’m not sure if we’ve really talked about anything. Everyone’s drunk off of cheap Mexican beer and tequila, rum and vodka. The Australian keeps flexing his muscles for me, asking if I want to go into the bathroom to f, how many guys I’ve slept with, if I like anal, if I’ve fed anyone in the group we’ve been a part of for the past week.

I barely respond to his questions. Other times I just lie. There’s nothing about him that makes me want to share a single thing about myself. You’re trying too hard, I say, but he doesn’t hear me.

He tells me all the girls he’s fed on this trip and the places he’s had them. The roof. The bathroom. The kitchen. He tells me he came back late one night and ended up fingering a random girl in the corridor.

“Really? You still don’t want this?” He asks. “This is your chance to get with a dime.”

After berating me for another 20 minutes and getting nowhere he convinces the table I’m a frigid bitch and he’d never follow my writing because he knows he’s had way more experiences than I could have ever had.

“There’s nothing remotely interesting about you,” he says to me, confidently, before filling his cup with more liquor. “You haven’t really lived like I have.”

The Swedish guys look at me expectedly, waiting for a response, waiting for something amusing to happen or be said, but I give a slight smile and say nothing. “She’s a hard nut to crack,” the Canadian tells him.

Three minutes later the cycle begins again where he tries to touch me, makes a joke about anal and choking and jerking off and facials. He gets annoyed at my lack of engagement and tells me my hair looks like shit. He asks me where I’m from in the United States. When I tell him he says, “Oh, this makes a lot of sense now.” He makes a face and Snapchats it. Flexes his muscles again. Everyone laughs.

I’m the uncool person at the table, even more so now that I’m on my phone writing these notes. I know tonight is the kind of night I should be “on.” I should be responding to all his dumb questions with clever quips, laughing along with everyone because hey, we’re all on holiday, we shouldn’t be taking things so seriously. But I’m not that person tonight. I’m disconnected, not on the same wavelength as all these people. Honestly, I want to tell the guy he’s a fing idiot, but instead I sit here silently, sipping a gin and tonic, observing the table.

I’m happy in general but there’s something about tonight that keeps my mind a million miles away from being here in the present. In this moment I’m blank at best, melancholy at worst. I keep trying to bring myself back to the conversation, to engage in a way that’s meaningful or entertaining, but I don’t feel like there’s any point. It’s okay. I’m not sad, just the opposite. I think there’s something about detachment and loneliness that can feel both bad and good at the same time.

I’m physically here, in Mexico, at this table, but my mind keeps drifting to other people. I think about the woman I found on her knees praying in the street yesterday, speaking a dialect of Mayan I couldn’t understand. I think about the boy from Finland I met a few days ago who left for Central America this morning. I think about the way the sky looked this evening and about my sister I don’t speak to enough and about friends from back home I’ve outgrown and about all the things I need to, want to start doing to feel like a more productive human. My mind hits and expands every central issue I’ve been thinking about lately until I realize 20 minutes have passed and I haven’t said a single word.

Isn’t it amazing how you can have all of this inside of you, and yet, to the outside world you’re a blank fixture in the room, a silent part of a social puzzle that has yet to find its place?

A guy from Mexico City touches my hand and asks if I’m okay. He offers me a beer. I study the Kurt Vonnegut tattoo on his arm that says “and so it goes.”

I look towards the door and think about escaping into the night, to the ocean only a few blocks away. I want to run into the streets and feel the energy of the people on their way to their destinations. I want to get lost in the world around me. I want the waves to crash so loudly I can’t hear my own thoughts anymore.

I look back at him and nod.

“Yeah,” I say, assuring him. “I’m okay.” TC mark

We Didn’t Last Forever, But At Least I Got A Taste Of Infinity With You

Twenty20 / @brendanmonahanphoto
Twenty20 / @brendanmonahanphoto

I got a taste. “Three years,” we both say. Two years, six months, and 11 days, to be exact.

I look at the number, and it seems so short. It looks like nothing compared to the other 18 years I have lived without knowing you. But, the truth is, it felt like an infinity. Not like the infinity waiting in the doctor’s office or the infinity of credits before the next Marvel post-credit scene, but like the infinity Hazel Grace felt with Augustus Waters.

Like I’ve known you all my life. Like time froze when I was with you. Like minutes, hours, and days meant nothing.

Time wasn’t measured by numbers, it was measured by your corny jokes, by the High School Musical songs we sang in your car, and the butterflies in my stomach with each innocent kiss.

It felt like an infinity because of the way I made friends with your past. Each precious story you told me about your history made the person you are at that moment so much clearer to me. Each dream, each endeavor, each heartbreak, each secret you shared with me made me love you even more. And I thank God every day for all those little things that brought you to my doorstep.

It felt like an infinity because of the road we saw ahead of us. Two dreamers, one dream, and one path. I never believed in the word “soul mate” until I found you. You, who from the very first week, didn’t think I was crazy when I told you my impossible dreams. You, who share the same passions as I do. You, who just like me, isn’t in this for the game, but for the long haul.

We knew where we wanted to be, we knew where we wanted to go, and we knew we could get there together.

Knew. Somewhere there, you realized that you didn’t know anymore. And that’s how the infinity ended. After two years, six months, and 11 days.

I only got a taste.

It’s hard to imagine that during that very tiny portion of your life, I was someone important. Someone you would call a priority. Someone you said you would do anything for. Someone you said you loved.

I’m not saying that you lied. I know you were honest. I know that at some point, I was everything to you.

But, now, where do I stand? When you chose to leave it all behind, where did you choose to place me in your life? At this point, I guess I’ll never know.

How do you realize that you don’t love someone anymore? How do you realize that someone isn’t “the one”? How do you realize that it’s not worth fighting for? How do you choose to walk away from someone you worked so hard to get? How do you let go of a heart you only once dreamt of holding?

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How do you look her in the eyes and tell her all of this, as she begs you to stay?

How lucky are those who get to stay in your life. How lucky are those who you don’t walk away from. How lucky are those who get to see you smile every day. How lucky are those who get friendly hugs and random high-fives from the warm hands that I used to memorize the texture of in mine.

How lucky are those whose number you call after a bad day. How lucky are those who get to hear you sing. How lucky are those who hear your name and don’t feel something sharp in their hearts. How lucky are they.

I’ve never been more envious of people than I am now, because all I got was a taste.

Two years, six months, and 11 days.

But then I think about how much more of you I had during that small time frame than they’ll ever get as they stay in your life. I had the secrets. I had the high notes no one else will ever hear. I had the inappropriate innuendoes and shameless conversations.

I had the best times as well as the worst. I had the tears on the phone as you reflected on the meaning of family after watching “Tangled” with me. I had the first news after your auditions. I had first dibs to shotgun seat, to your time, to your heart. I had the I need you’s, I miss you’s, and I love you’s.

In those two years, six months, and 11 days, I had you.

Perhaps that was enough time for us to learn from each other and carry on. Perhaps we took a shortcut and ended us way before we were meant to break each other’s hearts. Perhaps we missed out on the best thing that could have ever happened to us because we couldn’t overcome our own doubts.

We’ll never know.

But the one thing I do know is that it was so wonderful that I can’t even be mad at you for letting go. Even our last date was riddled with laughter and sweetness till the tears sprung at the very end.

It was everything a relationship was supposed to be—safe, mature, loyal, generous, supportive, liberating, and a little coy. But there were still so much more we could have done together that neither time nor circumstances permitted.

The one thing I do know is that I’ll never regret giving you that part of my life. And that part—those two years, six months, and 11 days—will always be yours.

So I’ll accept our fate and take a step back as our road splits into two. I’ll walk on always remembering how lovely it was to be yours, and, occasionally, I’ll look back and think about how lucky are those, who get to stay in your life. TC mark

Question: Is Catholic Church really the whore of Babylon?

Since it likes to copy the many myths from Babylon.

Like Adam & Eve, Mithra the man who was born of Virgin Birth and had a father Sun God.

Mithra also fulfilled his prohecies and did magics same as Jesus.

And many people in ancient times were born of Virgin mothers in 25th December?

Not Just Jesus: Other Virgin Births | Law of Attraction GPS
http://www.lawofattractiongps.com/living-law-of-attraction/not-just-jesus-other-virgin-births/#axzz4ZzZ7C9Gx

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Question: Christians if you believe that Atheism is areligion than wouldn’t you also beliee that Not believing in Santa Claus is a religion?

Science is a religion or a cult.
Unemployment is a (full-time) job.
Not collecting stamps is a hobby.
Not playing tennis is a sport.
Abstinence is a sual activity.
Off is a TV channel.
Insulting the concept of government – e.g. by not paying taxes – is patriotism.
An empty bowl is a meal.
Silence is a noise.
Remaining silent is a speech.
Not fighting is an act of violence.
Bald is a hair colour.
Nudity is a costume.
Cleanliness is a stain.
Sanity is a mental illness.
Being dead is an illness.
Empty space is matter.
Clear is a colour.
Vacuum is a smell.
Anarchy is structured government
Not watching boxing matches makes you a fan of archery.
Having never cared much for politics, and having never read Mein Kampf, your lack of a criticism of that work makes you a Nazi.
Having never cared much for gender politics, your lack of criticism of traditional gender roles makes you a chauvinist.
“Nothing” can have a volume.
Outer space is a planet.
“Nowhere” is a place.
“Nobody” is a person.
“Nobody” is a public office position.
“Nothing” is an object.
War is Peace
Pacifists are warmongers.
Freedom is Slavery
Ignorance is Strength (or knowledge)
Knowledge is burden.
Not doing drugs means you’re an addict
Discrimination is favoritism.
This essay is not a fragrant stream of piss.

Question: Will Christians admit that Atheism is not a religion after many testimonials from EX-Christians who does not recognise atheism as a religion?

Image result for Charles Darwin religious beliefs

It’s funny that Christians are dishonest and being Christians means you have to lie to protect religion and. Lie about others and spread hate and ignorant to cause misinformation and propaganda to ruin you enemies.

But it won’t work and Atheism is not a religion if it is than show me or tell me a origin myth in Atheism.

The Bib Bang is a Catholic Priest Georges Lemaitre. So it’s not a Atheist creation myth?

There no God that we worship nor do we worship Devil, Satan, Angels, or other unproven and imaginary creatures that doesn’t exist?

So it’s not a religion and Atheism has no Holy books, prayers or rituals.

And testimony from EX-Christians proves it’s definitely not a religion?

Majority of atheists are ex-Christians with a University education | How …
Majority of atheists are ex-Christians with a University education

Atheism is not a Religion ~ ExChristian.Net
http://new.exchristian.net/2009/04/atheism-is-not-religion.html

Testimonials of Ex-Christians: Atheism is not a Religion
http://testimonials.exchristian.net/2009/04/atheism-is-not-religion.html

Darwin replied that a man “can be an ardent Theist and an evolutionist”, citing Charles Kingsley and Asa Gray as examples, and for himself, “In my most extreme fluctuations I have never been an atheist in the sense of denying the existence of a God.— I think that generally (& more and more so as I grow older) but not …

This Mom & Daughter Duo Take Disney Cosplay To A Whole New Level

Camilla and Layla Courts are taking their love for Disney to a new level: Cosplay. The mother-daughter duo have an Instagram account dedicated to their insane portrayals of famous Disney characters like Ariel and Ursula from The Little Mermaid, Merida from Brave, Elsa from Frozen, and Snow White. To say they go all-out would be an understatement. Not only do they get the dress down perfectly, but full makeup and hair is also a factor in their extravagant photo shoots.

Aladdin
According to the Huffington Post, Camilla has been taking the photos for the last two years.

“Every once in a while I like to get in on the fun, and I think being the villain is way more fun than wearing the crown,” she explained. “I have a fantastic makeup artist named Missy MacKintosh who has transformed me into Maleficent [from Sleeping Beauty], The Evil Queen [from Snow White] and my favorite, Ursula [from The Little Mermaid].”

Camilla added that the photo shoots have helped get Layla out of her shell.

“She’s a very shy child and I see her light up when she gets into costume,” Courts said. “She’s gained a lot of confidence since we started the project and has really come out of her shell.”

Uh… how could she not with these gorgeous ensembles?! Note to self: on days you feel extra drab, just dress up like Merida and get sh*t done.