Everything works out in the end.

Everything works out in the end.

The only thing that makes our lives feel truly substantive is the pain and suffering we feel from loss or longing. I've spent a great deal of time feeling those things; many would say I've felt them for too long. Earlier in my life I could feel nothing else, and it was a common fight to convince myself that such a life was worth the trouble of waking up for.

But then, I've felt happiness as well. And like a man stranded in a desert, I drank up as much as I could hold. I loved so hard that I went blind, and forgot what pain felt like. And I lost the ability to deal with that pain as well, because to someone that has spent so much time thinking, just thinking endlessly about what it means to be alive and to suffer, ignorance is nothing but blissful.

And, you know, I thought it meant everything had finally worked out. I thought it meant I could finally relax and coast through life, never again having to worry about the problems that plagued me years before. But I was wrong. Like a storm, it all came back to me, as if I'd flown too high and burnt my wings.

Everything works out in the end.

So many nights in the past couple months, I've walked or driven through the night, unable to sleep, telling myself that. Sometimes it makes me feel better, but sometimes I feel myself lying. Sometimes I feel like things will only work out for me when my life is over, an end that is overbearingly feasible. I know the difference between one year ago and today, and things have only gotten worse. My best friends are far away, I'm leaving my homes, I'm ridden with anxiety and sadness, I can't sleep at night and can barely eat during the day, and there's no one anymore who can make me feel loved or wanted or important or real. I thought everything had worked out?

If you can't love yourself then no one else can. That's the lesson, that's it. It's what I need to do. But it's hard. And I don't know where to start. I have plenty of positive qualities, and actually my only big negative one is my own negativity. But knowing you're a good person is very, very different from feeling it. And no matter how many good things I've done, it's hard to get past the few bad things without being wracked with guilt and shame.

Everything works out in the end.

There was a point in my life where I wanted nothing more than to be done with this life and this world. And I told this to myself every day, every time I had a momentary daydream of walking in front of a car or being shot by a psychopath in a mall. I told myself, "That's not what I want. That would stop my pain but it would prevent me from all the good things that have yet to happen in my life. And those things will happen, because everything works out in the end." And it got me through it. It got me through it. It got me through everything. There was a point in my life where I could see nothing but pain and it's over, I finished it, why is it coming back? Haven't I learned anything? What the fuck am I supposed to do this time?

Tell myself the exact same goddamn thing, that's what, because it's fucking right.

Everything works out in the end. I'm a good person, whether I feel like it every day or once a week, it's true. I am worthy of someone's appreciation, someone's admiration, someone's love. There will be days when  I feel that my life isn't what I want, there may even be days when I feel that my life is hopeless, or worthless, or some foolish masochistic journey that I'm putting myself through for God knows why. But that's wrong. No life is hopeless or worthless. Every life is worth living, if one can appreciate it. And that includes mine. Every minute I spend appreciating myself, what I've done, and what I'm going to do, is a minute worth having lived. And we make those experiences ourselves. And so I tell myself:

Everything works out in the end. It might not be done working out right now, but any good moment is one worth waiting for. If I just wait and work toward it, I'll come by those good moments again. Because everything works out in the end.

Haha, oh wow.

So much for being back out of retirement, I've been gone for forever. No more promises I guess. I'm just gonna post a song today that I've been kind of addicted to.

I got accepted into medical school, hence some of my sudden busy-ness, and I've also been mucking around getting my summer job set up. That all being right after I graduated from college and my girlfriend and I broke up. Overall it's been pretty crazy lately.

This song is by Every Time I Die. Now, that's gotta be one of my least favorite band names in the world, but ETID's last two albums were insanely amazing, delivering the hard kind of metal that will rock you without containing useless screams and vapid lyrics. I'm posting the lyrics to this song too, so if you'd like, read them and you might find that they're pretty fucking deep. Their best album, in my humble opinion, is their latest: New Junk Aesthetic. This song is, however, from the preceding The Big Dirty. Enjoy.

Oh lord, I am saved
Judge says I am fit to swing
'bout time I have prayed
My woman just might wear my ring

Oh you know I'm no good
You know I'm no good at court-ordered goodbyes
But when I'm gone, you'll see;
I'll be a better man yet
For the dispossessed get taken back into your arms
Better keep me close to your heart
You'd better keep me close to your heart

The divine had me cornered in a storm
And he let me walk out the front door at the scene of the crime

Hang 'em high; keep your vows brief
Let 'em swing
Make his swindle an art
And if you still believe that men guilty of love can survive,
Then hang 'em high or not at all

Oh you know it gets hard
It just gets so hard going limp in your arms
I am clutching a smoking gun
There is no chance of me walking out of here alive
This is all very literal (Okay, this lyric should not be here, it's stupid)
I can't bring myself around to write an excuse this time

We're liberated by the hearts that imprison us
We're taken hostage by the ones that we break
Throw the book, throw the book

You had me strung up by the tail and you put me back
Hang 'em high; keep your vows brief
Let 'em swing
Make his swindle an art.
And if you still believe that men guilty of love can survive,
Then hang 'em high or not at all

Where did you get the privilege to pardon me?
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