The Hopeless Generation

On the rare occasions I venture out of the house for a night out with my friends (not that I am anti-social, I just don't like going out at night that much), it's hard not to notice all the other people that also decided that night was a good night to go out. We find ourselves usually in cramped bars or clubs permanently impregnated with an intense smell of cigarettes, where the music is loud, the people are louder and usually under the influence of something, either alcohol or something else. And it never ceases to amaze me, although not it a positive manner, the way my generation behaves these days. 

I belong to the Generation Y, the 90's Kids. We were brought up hearing how the world is full of possibilities, how we can be anything we want to be. The world is your oyster! Our childhoods were filled with fairy tales and wishful thinking.

But now we are all grown up, we realize all those promises were empty and there is almost nothing left for us to take. It turns out the world it's not an oyster, but an empty shell. My generation will have to work a million times harder to archive half the things our parents did, and even there it will not be enough. We'll be permanently plagued by thoughts of unworthiness; ... We, the hopeful kids, have grown into hopeless adults.

So it should be of no surprise to hear that all my friends' stories of great nights out begin when they are sufficiently intoxicated not to feel anything. That my generation needs the alcohol and drugs to have fun. We, the hopeful and full of hope kids, are exhausted, mentally exhausted, to the point of needing not to feel anything to feel something else. And it saddens me profoundly to see the point we are now. 

I like to believe that, amidst all darkness, there's still hope. Nothing has to - or can, really - be set in stone, but as long as we keep voicing our dreams, there's hope for a better future.  

Andie

Fog | Andie Maars | Exclusively on Blogger

Same Old New Year

Thirty-one days into the new year and it doesn't look new. Everything stayed just the same way it was thirty-two days ago, and somehow I feel disappointed. Not with the New Year per se, more with myself for thinking one number on the calendar would make any difference. 

I know all about those self-motivation things on how "if we want something, we have to be the ones going after that something" and what not... But the truth is, I don't really know what I want - I'm finding it extremely hard to set goals for both short and long terms (if my crappy New Year's Resolutions are anything to go by). Yes, I want to read more and take more pictures; those could easily be worked out for short term goals. I just have to pick a book from the pile that has been growing on my bookshelf, and I just have to take the camera the next time I leave the house... But I can't find in me any motivation to do any of those things. I'm stuck. 

Stuck between having too many unrealistic dreams for myself, having too many of those unrealistic dreams crushed recently, a depressingly low self-esteem, rainy days and nothing useful to do. I know, deep (really, really deep) inside that everything will, eventually, turn out alright. I'll somehow get my happy ending - whatever that means and however long it take to reach it -, but it will come. I'm just terrified of the time period between now and that day.

And there is still hope that, maybe, during the three hundred and thirty-five days this year has left, something new will come of it. 

So here's to being hopeful. 

Andie

Happy New Year to anyone that might be reading this. May your year have started in a less confused way! 

And if by chance you missed it, I updated my "final words" post like I said I would when the time was right. I guess that time has come. You can scroll down to look for it, or you can be lazy and click HERE. Until next time :) 

Still

It’s been a month and it still hurts. Not as much and not for the same reasons, but it still hurts. I’m still dealing with the emptiness, I still feel lost... But I don’t feel guilty anymore, for not insisting, for letting go. I’ve come to terms that it was the right thing to do. That my patience and bullshit tolerance have limits and those have been crossed way too many times before. I was, and still am, tired of fighting for something I once thought was meant to be; the doubts grow higher with each day that goes by without him.

I’m slowly learning how to let go; letting go of the feelings, of the automatic responses to certain actions. It’s much like having too many clothes that just don’t fit anymore and it is time to give them away, hoping someone will make better use of them than I can right now.

It has been a month and it feels both so far away and too close, too fresh, still burning. I am braving trough unknown waters in search for a safe haven, but my compass is wayward and the right direction is as blurry as it has ever been; I’m just sailing alone now.

In between the unknown, there is one thing I know for sure: no excuse, no explanation will ever be enough. Nothing can justify this, what I’m feeling, the emptiness…

There is nothing left unsaid now. All the T’s were crossed and all the I’s were dotted.

But it still hurts.

Andie

Alone | Andie Maars | Exclusively on blogger

Ephemera of Life

Because going light didn't work for me, let’s try going real this time. 

I find Beauty to be something ephemeral; what is perceived as beautiful today might not be the same tomorrow. 

That's why I believe no relationship should be funded based on just that. Because, like everything else, beauty fades... and we will all, eventually, turn old and grey. A flawless skin will grow wrinkles, scars and spots; a fit body will lose its elasticity over time. We all have flaws, we all have cravings and we all deserve to do things that make us feel good. I don't want to feel guilty every time I eat something "unhealthy", nor will I ever willingly give up on sugar. Why should I? 

I cannot, in my righteous mind, give myself to someone that will only stay while things are pretty. I want to believe I have more to offer that just my body, I want to believe I have more "qualifications" besides physical attractiveness. I want (and need) to know someone will stay when things go ugly and when I grow old, grey and wrinkly. The world is already filled with too much superficiality for me to allow for the biggest one of them all to dictate my happiness. Because that is what it is at stake here, my happiness (and my heart) and I won't allow just anyone to juggle away with it at will.

So, if you are reading this and believe that beauty comes first, I really think you should take a step back and reevaluate your priorities in life. In all honesty, it's not fair to hold such thing against someone. No one should have to live in the constant uncertainty of an "if"; worrying if you're still pretty enough, if your significant other still thinks you are attractive enough and for how long it will remain that way. Life already has enough complications on its own. 

Speaking for myself only but, I would rather share my life with someone I can keep an intellectual conversation with and that, after all the years, still laughs at my lame jokes, rather than with someone who thinks I look good in pictures. Beauty and sexiness will fade, the body will decay... But your (un)happiness will still matter.

So the big question is: Do I really want something so superficial to be the foundation of a lifelong relationship? 
My answer: No, not really.

~Andie

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Disclaimer: I'm in no way trying to encourage unhealthy eating habits - I eat everything with moderation (well, except chocolate) and I am happy with my body just the way it is. 

You don't need to be Victoria's Secrets thin to be healthy. I just don't think the way my body looks like should dictate my life nor be the main reason for someone to be in/ leave my life - in either friendly or romantic situations. Updated: 14/10/2015