Best i just want to feel loved quotes Shayari, Status, Quotes, Stories & Poem.
I want you in every way possible, imaginable. I want your sleepy hair. I want your sweaty jog body. I want your morning breath kisses. I want your just got home from work tired eyes. I want adventures with your hand in mine along the way.
I want 12 am munchie runs with you in my oversized tees. I want Netflix lazy ass cuddle Sundays. I want to cook for you and just that. I want teaching on how to cook lessons turn into mini food fights with you.
I want your moody I don't give a fuck about anything days. I want your uncontrollable horny days. I want movie dates that turn into making out because you're my "it only happens in movies" fairytale. I want your goodnight kisses. I want your happy kisses. Excited kisses. Shy kisses.
I want your sad tears so I can wipe them away with my fingertips against your soft skin. I want your happy tears so I can cry with you as you pull me in closer to yourself. I want your leave me alone days so I can only want you more and assure you everything is alright, that you're with me and I got you. I want to kiss you like the first time everytime.
I want your sleepy voice mumbles at 4 am. I want your 5 min corky laugh at the stupidest things only we could think of. I want your eyes locked in a way where I know how to respond and swipe you off your feet. I want your sick days where I look after my still just as charming girl, giving me tea and soup.
I want your sick kisses so I can kiss you back with the cure to make you better. I want you in 10 years. I want you at 76. I want you at 106. I want just shut the fuck up and kiss me arguments. I want walk away disagreements turning into pulling, turning you around to kiss and shutting you up.
I want your I'm not sleeping until you go to sleep smiling nights. I want your 2 am I can't sleep stay closer to me nights. I want to walk right behind you so you can guide me through the world in your view.
I want to spoil you at random moments with flowers to show you my appreciation and devotion towards you. All. I want all with you. I want you more than I have ever wanted anything else.
We made plans to meet again at the bar. I gave him a hug bye and his lips found mine. I felt something then that I had never felt before. There as a spark that sent a tingle down into my toes. That short, simple, sweet kiss from him left the first imprint on my heart.
Finally the time had arrived for me to see him at the bar again. All night he stayed by my side. I was not use to someone so attentive. I was not use to someone who showed me so much affection yet knew so little about me. This man was like no other I had ever met before.
He would gently kiss my hand. His sweet lips touching mine would easily make me melt in my set. I wanted to be in his arms. I could feel things inside me that I had not felt in a long time. I could feel the passion and desire for more of his touch starting to build. The night was coming to an end. All that was in my thoughts was him and his caressing touch. I wanted more of him then the feeling of his hand on mine. More then just the touch of his luscious lips pressed against mine.
We decided to leave the bar together. Our night together was far from over. We drove for what seemed to be hours before finally reaching our private place together. We talked as we drove. Getting to know each other a little better. Getting to know each other's thought on topics important to us. Without thinking we were asking questions and finding out answers to see if we would ever have a future. We had so much in common. We had the same outlook on life. We had the same goals and dreams. We had the same look in our eyes toward each other. It was a look of more then just passion.
At last we arrive; night air cool and crisp. The sky outside was clear with the moon shinning bright. We walked inside with my heart already bounding inside my chest. I was not sure if I knew what I was doing. I begin to think that I was making a mistake. I did not want another one-night stand. I knew we could have something special.
I feared letting things between us move at such a rapid pace would make him think poorly of me. A one-night stand is all it would be. I would only hold him in my arms this one night. I wanted to feel his muscular naked body against mine. I wanted to feel him thrusting deep inside me. I did not want to lose something I had just found. The concept of another quick fuck was not something I was willing to endure.
Without thinking about it, we found ourselves in the bedroom laying side by side on the bed. Embraced in each other's arms he started kissing me passionately. As his hands begin to caress my body, my heart pounded inside my chest. Thoughts of his warm lips gently kissing my neck ran through my mind. The simple perceptions turned into images of my nipples inside his fiery mouth as he sucked my silky breast. I quickly pushed the images away as well as him. I could not allow him to go any further.
My body wanted so much more. My morals and emotions would not allow it. My morals were getting in the way of the longing that my body was feeling. I explained my morals, emotions and feelings to him. He understood and respected them. We lay there kissing. Each kiss became more lascivious as well as more intense. My body began to ache for the touch of his warm hands on my bare skin. I wanted to feel the heat of his bare body against mine.
As the late night hours turned into early morning hours, my hands begin to wonder across his firm, toned body. His smooth, warm hands slid under my shirt and fondled my breast. My whole body tensed for want of more. I allowed myself to explore his body with my hands. Rubbing my hands over his taunt skin. Feeling the warmth of his bare back and exposed chest my body begin the to twitch. The feeling of my fingers running through his soft chest hair, allowing them to follow the hair downward toward the stiffness in his briefs, was almost more than I could stand..
His hands were caressing my toned stomach, silky breast, and smooth back. Our lips never seemed to lose contact with the other's body. My body was aching with want for him. I could feel the throb of yearning in my pussy. I wanted him inside me. My hands slid across the firmness in his briefs. His dick was hard and it jumped with my touch. I could not give in to him. I could not allow myself to give into lust again. I wanted to find true love with someone. I did not want to confuse lust with love again. I hurt too many before with saying words that were not true. I stopped, pushing him away once more. He backed away, removing his hands from under my shirt. We lay there talking and kissing.
We begin to play around; tickling, wrestling, and laughing. We begin to kiss again with erotic desire as intense as before. I allowed him to remove my shirt as he kissed his way down my neck to my sleek breast. My nipples were hard with excitement and longing for the warmth of his wet mouth. My back arched, my head fell back, my body went limp as his warm, wet mouth enveloped my erect nipple. My body surged with passion. I felt my pussy throb as it became wetter with passion.
His lips once again found mine as he lay his firm body down on top of me. I could feel his heart's repetition inside my chest. He pressed his hips down onto mine. Through our clothes I could feel his hard rod pressing against my wet pussy. I could feel the juices inside my pussy begin to flow again. I rolled us over with me on top of him as I begin to kiss his chest. I kissed my way down his chest to his stomach then his rigid cock. Through his briefs I wrapped my lips around his hard dick blowing warm air onto it. I felt it jump with excitement as his body went limp. I sat up on the bed and smiled. He grabbed me and kissed me lustfully as he laid me back down on the bed. We teased each other with me stopping just when things would get too tense.
The night sky was starting to lighten. The morning sun was on the rise. I knew our time together was coming to an end. I did not want this dream to be over. I wanted more. I wanted him. The passion, wanting and yearning of my body had me confused. I did not know what to do. Should I allow this to go on or should I stop?
His hands found their way into my shorts. My body tensed with want then relaxed as he slid his finger in my moistened pussy. The warmth of his finger inside my tight pussy caused my body to saturate his finger with my juices. I longed for more but stopped him. I laid him down on the bed and begin to kiss him. I slid his briefs down off his hard cock. I kissed and licked his dick as I caressed it with my hand. I could feel his body relax as he allowed me to take him into my damp mouth. I could hear his breath deepen as I begin to suck on his sweet, throbbing cock. I slid my hands across his nuts as I felt his body tighten. I quickly stopped. I slid my body back up his naked torso. Pushing my shorts to one side I begin to rub my drenched pussy against his wanting dick. I quickly laid on my back on the other side of the bed.
I knew I wanted to and yet knew I couldn't allow myself to. He climbed on top of me with a devilish, sly smile. I felt him slide his pulsating dick against the dampened lips of my pussy. My pussy throbbed with pain and desire to feel his dick inside…inside me. I told him to stop but he continued to fondle the opening of my pussy with the soft, velvety head of his rigid dick. His head teased my pussy making it twitch in anticipation as it coated his head with my flowing juices. Rubbing his hard cock against my clit I could feel my pussy swelling with flaming desire. I pushed him back telling him I couldn't do it. I had to stop.
He laid on the bed next to me. We kissed passionately with yearning and wanting inside both of us. He turned over to get comfortable with his back toward me. I could sense the frustration in him. I could tell he was both sexually and mentally frustrated from the events of the night. The sun was coming up in the early morning sky. I could see it starting to peer through the window above the bed. I snuggled up to his back noticing a difference in his breathing. He was falling asleep and was frustrated with me. My body was still aching with desire for him. I left his side to think in private.
Thoughts of him laying in bed raced through my mind. I wanted his body against mine. I wanted to feel him inside me. The only problem was I did not want it for just one night. I wanted him for the rest of my life. My heart pounded with emotions of desire and lust. Other emotion for him where there. I found myself feeling things for him I did not think I would ever feel again. That was it, I was going to give myself to him.
Climbing back into bed, I begin to kiss his back. He turned over smiling at me. Taking me into his arms we begin to kiss more erotically then ever. I began kissing his neck working down toward his growing cock. As I took him into my warm, damp mouth I could feel his cock getting harder with every suck. I ran my finger nails over his thighs pressing them slightly into his flesh. I felt his body tense with plesure. I contiuned to suck on his hard dick pausing to kiss the head. I would return to fully enveloping his throbling cock in my mouth. In return, I would pause again to run my toungue up and down his swollowen shaft allow my toungue ring to press into it. I would lick down the shaft to his nuts and gently take them into my mouth as I would lightly suck on them. Taking care not to cause any pain. Then I would return to licking his stiff shaft up to the head to allow him to pop into the wetness of my hot mouth. Hearing him release a sigh each time his hard membrane would return into the moist heat of my waiting mouth. Genlty my teeth would run up his shaft just to slide it back deep into the back of my mouth allow my toungue to push him against the roof of my mouth. I felt the heat of his hand as he began to stroke my breast. I felt his finger tips pinch my nipples between them as my body longed for more. I climbed back on top of him. We begin kissing intensely with our body pressed firmly against each other.
My body went limp as he began to kiss my neck down toward my breast. He took my erect nipple into his wet, hot mouth. As I felt the moist, warmth of his mouth I could feel the juices in my pussy begin to flow across the lips of my passion-swollen pussy. He gently rolled me over onto my back as his laid his body against my side. Kissing across my smooth, silky breast he caressed my body working his way down toward my waistline.
He slid my shorts off me as he began to run his hands over my wet pussy. My pussy tightened in pleasure as he penetrated one finger inside the moisture. I could feel the pressure of the palm of his hand against my clit as his finger thrust inside my pulsating pussy. I allowed my hands to once again find his hard cock as I begin to kiss him. I stroked the head of his thick cock and he drove his finger deeper inside me. I could feel my juices coating his finger as he began to able pressure to my g-spot. Unable to stand it anymore I pushed his hand away before I came in his palm. He moved my hand away as he climbed onto my shaking body. He slowly slid his stiff, throbbing dick into the wetness of my pulsating tight pussy. My body shivered in relief as my pussy released a heavy flow of cum onto his wanting dick.
I caressed his back as he drove himself deeper into my welcoming pussy. He pushed harder into my pussy. I gladly brought my legs up under his arms to open my legs wider allowing him easier entrance. As he thrust harder into my wet pussy I begin to sink my fingernails into his flesh. Pushing my body upward to meet his downward thrust I could feel his body getting tenser as he picked up pace in his thrust. I began to moan as I felt him throb inside me. I could not take it any longer. The presser inside was unbearable. I felt my fingernails sinking into the flesh of his back as I let out a scream of pleasure. My body tensed and began to shiver, as I felt warm, wet juices run out of my soaked, swollen pussy.
I could fell his warm cum gush inside of me with each throb. He grabbed my arms pushing them to the bed as he rammed deeper inside me causing another scream of pleasure to escape from under my heavy breathing. Our warm juices began to run out of my drenched pussy over my swollen lips. I shivered as he laid on top of me kissing me with a passion I had never felt before.
We lay there staring into each other’s eyes. At that moment I know this would not be a one-night stand. There was a bond made between us that evening that I have never felt with anyone else. We went to the bathroom to shower together. He washed my body down as the water relaxed my still tense muscles. After the shower we talked and kissed. At last our night was ending and it was time to go. The morning sun was shinning high in the sky. I was sad and unsure what to say. I did not want to leave his side. Till this day, I never want to leave his side.
“It’s the same dream every night.”
“The one about me?”
“Yeah… I’m in bed and I can’t move.”
“How did it feel?”
“Like nothing. I feel nothing. Until…”
“Until you’re there, on top of me.”
“What am I doing?”
“You’re… looking at me? I’m sorry, it’s hard to remember. It’s always blurry.”
“Yeah, like when you face towards the shower and water runs down your face, it’s all blurry.”
“It’s okay. What do I look like?”
“You’re naked. You’re naked, on top of me, on my bed. It’s always the same. The time on the clock,
the bedsheets, the breeze from the window. And you. You’re always there.”
“What about my face?”
“Am I pretty?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I don’t know what you look like.”
“Do you remember?”
“I don’t know who you are.”
“Yes, you do”
“Who are you?”
I’ll never get used to it; people saying they’re sorry for me. Those people who never batted an
eyelid. It’s funny how messing up your brain somehow entitles you to their sympathy. Or when
people give me that look. The I’m-sorry-you-can’t-remember-shit look. I’m sure if I remembered half
of these faces I’d be telling them all to piss off or something. Mum sometimes jokes about it and
says she wishes I’d lost my attitude instead of my memories. She pretends it’s all just for a laugh, but
I can tell she’s heartbroken. I heard her crying in the kitchen yesterday.
“I’ll just put the kettle on” she said.
She’s never made me tea before.
The doctor says it’s not that serious. A few months max. She said it’s best that I take it slow for now,
which means no stressing out, getting a good night’s sleep, the usual protocol, it seems.
“Your memories will come back in their own time, don’t force it”
It’s not like I know how to do that. She referred me to a therapist and told me to book an
appointment once a week, and she gave me medicine that I have to take, every day, from now on. I
want to punch my old self, right in the nose, for being an idiot.
I want to shout at him: “You are an absolute twat. Crashing a car and cracking your head open? You
I want him to say sorry to Mum, for making her cry. For nearly making her lose the only family she
“We’re all she’s got, and you have no right taking that away from her”
If only I could.
I’ve been taking a walk, every day, since the accident. Mainly because my therapist recommended it,
says it’s good to clear your head. But also, when I’m walking, I’m in control. I’ve been quite adamant
about that lately. I go to the park near my house, only about 2 minutes away. It’s full of 12-year-old
kids skipping school, wearing adidas tracksuits looking like a budget Run DMC costume. But apart
from that, it’s pretty nice. There’s a pond in a corner of the park, it’s really secluded so no one ever
goes there. It’s perfect for an introverted amnesiac to have breakfast in. I sit on the bench in front of
the pond, sometimes for hours, just staring at the water. The water is so still in the morning. It
seemed ridiculous at first, but it does help. I listen to the ducks gliding from one end of the pond to
the other, the sound of the water splitting. I trace the path of the birds flying around, imagining as if
they were drawing pictures. I breathe in the smell of cut grass, a smell that I can only describe as
‘green’. I take it all in. I force myself to hear these sounds, every single one of them. I suck in every
decibel. I make sure it’s never quiet. Because silence is so loud. It’s deafening. I hear her voice. Her
voice, who is she?
I’m interrupted by someone sitting next to me on the bench. I open my eyes and see that it’s a
woman, wearing a red scarf. I think she’s talking to me.
“Yeah… yeah, very nice.”
“I said, are you alright?”
“Oh, right, yeah, I’m alright. Thanks.”
Well this is a bit awkward. How long has she been there?
“It’s just you looked so still, is all. I was beginning to think you were dead.”
“Oh no, I was just uhm, thinking. That’s all.”
“Yeah, it looked like you were trying to move something with your mind for a sec. Like a Jedi.”
“Star Wars… huh, wow.”
“Do I not look like a Star Wars fan?”
“Oh no, no, it’s just that…”
This is odd. I try to remember what I was going to say.
“It’s just that I remember Star Wars.”
“Well, yeah, A Force Awakens just came out like, a month ago.”
She’s smiling. I can’t help but smile back.
“Yeah, I remember seeing it. I remember watching it with someone and I remember that it was
good. Really good.”
“You have amnesia or something?”
“No, it’s okay.”
“Wow, I am so sorry.”
“It’s okay, really.”
I give her a forced, reassuring laugh.
“No, I just say stupid shit sometimes without thinking. I’m so sorry.”
I chuckle, genuinely.
“You remind me of someone.”
“Do you absolutely despise that person?
I laugh, though I don’t know why. Why did I say that?
“No, it’s just… You really do remind me of someone.”
“Well whoever it is, they better be a right laugh to be with and always, always think before they say
“I’m sure they are.”
This woman. She seems so familiar. I’ve only just met her, but I can’t take my eyes away from her,
it’s like they’re telling me to look at something. To remember something.
“I’m sorry if this sounds insane, but do I know you?”
“Well, we know each other now.”
The way she avoided the question kind of annoyed me.
“Yes, but do I know you? Do you know me? It just feels like I know you, like, I’ve heard your voice
She gives a smile. It feels warm.
“You always asked so many questions.”
“Asked? So, we’ve met before?”
She gets up from the bench and starts walking away.
“See you next time, space cowboy.”
Before I know it, she’s gone. That was odd.
Who was she?
“Are you there?”
“I’m always here.”
“Where are you? I want to see you.”
“I’m right here.”
“It’s so dark…”
“Follow my voice.”
“Your voice… I know that voice.”
“Do you remember?”
“No… I don’t remember you.”
“But you know who I am.”
“I don’t know who you are. What are you talking about? Why do I know your voice? Why do I
remember your voice?”
“You always asked so many questions.”
I wake up, in a pool of my own sweat. There’s that dream again, except… Except it was different this
time. There was no bed, no room, no breeze. But like always, there she was. What did she look like?
I can’t remember if I saw her or not. But her voice, I just realised, was exactly the same as the
woman from the park. The woman with the red scarf.
I open my eyes and the Sun is out. It takes a while for me to adjust. Once I get myself together, the
smell of toast and bacon invade my nostrils. I make my way downstairs. Mum is cooking breakfast,
which is pretty rare of her to do. To be honest, I’m usually awake first so I just end up cooking my
own breakfast. I sit at the dining table – a full English breakfast already prepared for me. I can’t
remember the last time I had my Mum’s full English. The aroma entices me.
“Good morning, darl.”
“What time is it?”
“It’s around half ten already. You’re up quite late this morning.”
“Had a bad night’s sleep.”
“The nightmare’s again?”
I mentioned these dreams I’ve been having to my Mum. I didn’t want to keep anything from her. I’ve
even told her about the woman in my dreams and asked her if I knew a woman, before the accident.
Her responses have always been elusive.
“Do you know a woman that wears a red scarf?”
She stops, all of a sudden.
“I can’t say I do. How come?”
Her hands are shaking. What’s going on?
“I’m cooking breakfast, darling. Why don’t you go ahead and get started without me, ey?”
Does she know something?
Her body jolts. She tips the frying pan over and it falls to the floor, making such a sharp noise.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, yes, I’m okay. It just scared me, is all”
She looks at me, with the same expression that everyone else has been giving me.
“Who is the woman with the red scarf?”
She wipes her hands with a kitchen towel and sits on the dining table, in front of me.
“We didn’t think it was healthy for you to know.”
She’s crying. I stand up from the chair and press down on the table with both hands.
“Mum! Know what?”
“It wasn’t just you in the car.”
“There was someone else.”
Her name. I remember… It wasn’t the first time I heard it, but it was the first time it tore me apart. I
sink. I sink into a deep, dark pool of dread and panic. That woman at the park. All I can think of, in
this moment, is that woman. The woman in the red scarf.
I make my way to the park. I know where I have to go.
It's around half eleven in the morning and the pond is just like it always is – empty. I sit at the bench
and I wait. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I get up and walk around, just to do something. I can’t
stand the silence. My mind starts panicking. It feels like every synapse in my brain is frying. That
name. It keeps replaying in my head, over and over again, it won’t stop. It just won’t stop. Who is
that woman? Who is she? Who are you? Who are you?
Who are you?
I sit back down, my mind exhausted. Slowly, I feel my eyes close. And then there was black.
“You look tired.”
“I remember you.”
“Hold on, space cowboy. We have plenty of time.”
“You hated it when I called you that. It made you feel like a ‘child’, you said. You were always so
cute when you got annoyed. Do you remember?”
“It was how I got you into Star Wars. I showed you Han Solo, the space cowboy, to make you feel
better. Do you remember?”
“And you kept talking and talking throughout the entire film, asking who that is, what planet
they’re on, who shot first… Do you remember?
“I remember everything.”
“You remember me?”
“I remember you.”
“You remember how much I loved you? How much you loved me?”
“I remember. I remember it all.”
“Do you remember how loud I used to eat? How it annoyed you so much?”
“It was unbearable.”
“You remember the red scarf you bought me for Christmas? You remember why you gave it to
“Because you hated the cold wind touching your neck.”
“You remember how I died?”
“It was my fault.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I wish you were here.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, always.”
“Let me stay with you.”
“Do you remember me?”
“So wake up.”
She was the person that I loved. She is the person that I still love.
Her name is Ellie.
Our struggles determine our successes
Everybody wants what feels good. Everyone wants to live a carefree, happy and easy life, to fall in love and have amazing sex and relationships, to look perfect and make money and be popular and well-respected and admired and a total baller to the point that people part like the Red Sea when you walk into the room.Everyone would like that—it’s easy to like that.If I ask you, “What do you want out of life?” and you say something like, “I want to be happy and have a great family and a job I like,” it’s so ubiquitous that it doesn’t even mean anything.A more interesting question, a question that perhaps you’ve never considered before, is what pain do you want in your life? What are you willing to struggle for? Because that seems to be a greater determinant of how our lives turn out.Everybody wants to have an amazing job and financial independence—but not everyone wants to suffer through 60-hour work weeks, long commutes, obnoxious paperwork, to navigate arbitrary corporate hierarchies and the blasé confines of an infinite cubicle hell. People want to be rich without the risk, without the sacrifice, without the delayed gratification necessary to accumulate wealth.Everybody wants to have great sex and an awesome relationship—but not everyone is willing to go through the tough conversations, the awkward silences, the hurt feelings and the emotional psychodrama to get there. And so they settle. They settle and wonder “What if?” for years and years and until the question morphs from “What if?” into “Was that it?” And when the lawyers go home and the alimony check is in the mail they say, “What was that for?” if not for their lowered standards and expectations 20 years prior, then what for?Because happiness requires struggle. The positive is the side effect of handling the negative. You can only avoid negative experiences for so long before they come roaring back to life.
At the core of all human behaviour, our needs are more or less similar. Positive experience is easy to handle. It’s negative experience that we all, by definition, struggle with. Therefore, what we get out of life is not determined by the good feelings we desire but by what bad feelings we’re willing and able to sustain to get us to those good feelings.
People want an amazing physique. But you don’t end up with one unless you legitimately appreciate the pain and physical stress that comes with living inside a gym for hour upon hour, unless you love calculating and calibrating the food you eat, planning your life out in tiny plate-sized portions.People want to start their own business or become financially independent. But you don’t end up a successful entrepreneur unless you find a way to appreciate the risk, the uncertainty, the repeated failures, and working insane hours on something you have no idea whether will be successful or not.People want a partner, a spouse. But you don’t end up attracting someone amazing without appreciating the emotional turbulence that comes with weathering rejections, building the sexual tension that never gets released, and staring blankly at a phone that never rings. It’s part of the game of love. You can’t win if you don’t play.What determines your success isn’t “What do you want to enjoy?” The question is, “What pain do you want to sustain?” The quality of your life is not determined by the quality of your positive experiences but the quality of your negative experiences. And to get good at dealing with negative experiences is to get good at dealing with life.
There’s a lot of crappy advice out there that says, “You’ve just got to want it enough!”Everybody wants something. And everybody wants something enough. They just aren’t aware of what it is they want, or rather, what they want “enough.”Because if you want the benefits of something in life, you have to also want the costs. If you want the beach body, you have to want the sweat, the soreness, the early mornings, and the hunger pangs. If you want the yacht, you have to also want the late nights, the risky business moves, and the possibility of pissing off a person or ten thousand.If you find yourself wanting something month after month, year after year, yet nothing happens and you never come any closer to it, then maybe what you actually want is a fantasy, an idealization, an image and a false promise. Maybe what you want isn’t what you want, you just enjoy wanting. Maybe you don’t actually want it at all.Sometimes I ask people, “How do you choose to suffer?” These people tilt their heads and look at me like I have twelve noses. But I ask because that tells me far more about you than your desires and fantasies. Because you have to choose something. You can’t have a pain-free life. It can’t all be roses and unicorns. And ultimately that’s the hard question that matters. Pleasure is an easy question. And pretty much all of us have similar answers. The more interesting question is the pain. What is the pain that you want to sustain?That answer will actually get you somewhere. It’s the question that can change your life. It’s what makes me me and you you. It’s what defines us and separates us and ultimately brings us together.For most of my adolescence and young adulthood, I fantasized about being a musician — a rock star, in particular. Any badass guitar song I heard, I would always close my eyes and envision myself up on stage playing it to the screams of the crowd, people absolutely losing their minds to my sweet finger-noodling. This fantasy could keep me occupied for hours on end. The fantasizing continued up through college, even after I dropped out of music school and stopped playing seriously. But even then it was never a question of if I’d ever be up playing in front of screaming crowds, but when. I was biding my time before I could invest the proper amount of time and effort into getting out there and making it work. First, I needed to finish school. Then, I needed to make money. Then, I needed to find the time. Then … and then nothing.Despite fantasizing about this for over half of my life, the reality never came. And it took me a long time and a lot of negative experiences to finally figure out why: I didn’t actually want it.I was in love with the result—the image of me on stage, people cheering, me rocking out, pouring my heart into what I’m playing—but I wasn’t in love with the process. And because of that, I failed at it. Repeatedly. Hell, I didn’t even try hard enough to fail at it. I hardly tried at all.The daily drudgery of practicing, the logistics of finding a group and rehearsing, the pain of finding gigs and actually getting people to show up and give a shit. The broken strings, the blown tube amp, hauling 40 pounds of gear to and from rehearsals with no car. It’s a mountain of a dream and a mile-high climb to the top. And what it took me a long time to discover is that I didn’t like to climb much. I just liked to imagine the top.Our culture would tell me that I’ve somehow failed myself, that I’m a quitter or a loser. Self-help would say that I either wasn’t courageous enough, determined enough or I didn’t believe in myself enough. The entrepreneurial/start-up crowd would tell me that I chickened out on my dream and gave in to my conventional social conditioning. I’d be told to do affirmations or join a mastermind group or manifest or something.But the truth is far less interesting than that: I thought I wanted something, but it turns out I didn’t. End of story.I wanted the reward and not the struggle. I wanted the result and not the process. I was in love not with the fight but only the victory. And life doesn’t work that way.
Who you are is defined by the values you are willing to struggle for. People who enjoy the struggles of a gym are the ones who get in good shape. People who enjoy long workweeks and the politics of the corporate ladder are the ones who move up it. People who enjoy the stresses and uncertainty of the starving artist lifestyle are ultimately the ones who live it and make it.This is not a call for willpower or “grit.” This is not another admonishment of “no pain, no gain.”This is the most simple and basic component of life: Our struggles determine our successes.
So choose your struggles wisely, my friend.
This post originally appeared on MarkManson.net. Follow @iammarkmanson on Twitter