Sleepwalking my way through life: Advice from strangers

Advice from strangers

This post was written in the early hours of yesterday, which is the reason why it isn't in the same mood as my previous post. I usually have a rule that doesn't let me submit posts when I my thoughts have changed, but I thought that this post is good, so I'll submit it.
Keep in mind that I haven't read it since the early hours of last night, so my rating of goodness may have been sleep induced. Like the time I thought it would be funny to have a shower at three in the morning. But that's another story...

I received the best advice I could ever receive not too long ago.

When Marie broke up with me over a month ago, people molly-coddled me; telling me that things will be alright, and that everything will work out eventually. I was given many condolences, many concerned looks and many offerings of help in the attempt to ease my pain. Almost all of which I shrugged aside, trying my best to bear my thoughts and fears alone, trying my very best to become that island that John Donne is so convinced I can’t be. Believe me, I appreciated the sentiment, but there was no one, bar me, that could do anything about the situation.

And then there was one who was different. He didn’t sympathise, he didn’t try and help me regain what I had lost, and he didn’t even know the full details. He just gave me cynicism that ran true in the world. He told me that it wouldn’t work out, that things our age usually don’t. He told me that it would get shit before it got better, but it would get better. Not the best it could be, but better.

But I ignored him. I could fix it if I tried, I could regain what I lost. I just needed to try. I know today that that was bullshit, I can’t get back what I have lost. All the happy memories that I yearned for were just that; memories.

I now know that I can aim for something higher, better than what I had. And I don’t need to try; I just need to… do.

But that is not the point. There is one thing that this mysterious stranger told me, and I still remember it to this day (mainly because I have it saved in an MSN conversation). It was just before I left him, and just before I thanked him for his help, he said this;

“Smile a bit Joe. Not giving a fuck doesn’t really help, just find the small things.”

That stuck with me. It reminded me of The Smile, a poem that Marie had shown me months before that. It has recently turned into one of my favourite poems, and I can always remember one significant line;

“But the one worth-while,
Is the one who will smile,
When everything goes dead wrong.”

It’s a good philosophy is it not?

[Insert Smiley Face]
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