I just moved. Well.. my parents did. But I’m living here until September so technically, yes, I just moved.
I hate moving. But I decided to just accept that this is happening and move on and not be a baby.
Today, before I started to unpack everything, I decided to put on a record so I have some music to keep me going. I pulled out one of my records, placed it on my player and carefully dropped the needle onto the edge.
I tried another record.. still scratchy.
I tried ten records. All scratchy.
I then realize that all of my records were somehow damaged during the move (I’m pretty sure it’s not the needle) and cried like a baby for about 30 minutes.
It’s like you can’t love any material item.. because it can break or get lost at any moment. And you can’t put your trust and happiness in people, because I was taught not to trust anyone and to not rely on others for happiness.
So I can’t love anything… or anyone.
I cannot love.
How sad is that statement.
I am certainly able to love, but I cannot. I am not allowed. Unless I’m prepared to get hurt or feel like absolute shit like I do right now.
It’s not just that these records are gone, and they are worth a lot of money. But they actually have great significance to me… most of them don’t belong to me… that’s all I’ll say about that.
Also, one of them was my grandfathers. And it was my favourite vinyl from every single one that I own. Damaged.
Nothing is permanent. Love yourself and invest in yourself cause that’s all you can hold onto indefinitely until you die.
Sorry this is insanely morbid, I’m just super bitter right now.
Have a good night everyone, try to be happier than me right now.
– Dose of (sorry these past couple posts have not been joyful) Delight