I had a nice day, with nice people, and nice things, in a nice place.
I met new people, few people, all of which who were nice.
But both of you need to come to back into my lives.
Hurry, Ke$ha is counting.
I want to be in a nice place, with a nice person, with nice things.
Everything I do is stupid and invalid, and those things that aren’t, never end up coming through.
You are making my nerves writhe in pain.
You are one of the most beautiful people in the world. You are the nicest person I’ve ever met.
You’ve never done anything to intentionally hurt me, ridicule me, or judge me, and you’ve never completely disregarded what I’ve had to say.
You don’t ask for a lot out of a person, but in return, you are given so much love because of it.
I don’t want to stop loving you!
You are the best!
When you are happy, I am happy.
When you’re sad, I’m sad that you’re not happy, because when you’re happy, I’m happy too.
You already knew that though.
You make me want to run out of my house and scream at the top of my lungs about how much I love you.
You always bring a smile to my face.
When I think about you, I’m hesitant on what I have to say, because I wouldn’t want to say the wrong thing around you. I thrive off of your happiness.
You make me want to write about how much I love you, and then, while writing that list, you make me want to write it so long, that it would never have to end.
You make me think about what I should do to make myself happier.
You are so pretty, I think of your face and I am just left in complete adoration.
I literally sit and think about how happy you make me.
I think of your face, and I’m just left in this state of mind one goes into when looking at something ridiculously beautiful.
You are just so beautiful, andI love the way your hair gently falls to your chest.
I want to fall asleep in your arms.
I want to fall asleep with you and wake up and see your pretty face.
If my day were to ever start off with seeing you, my day would be great.
I would want to lay down in a park and look at the sky with you, and talk about how the clouds look like cotton balls, and how you can sometimes make them out to be pictures of certain things, like elephants, and sea turtles, and dolphins.
I want to hear what you have to say, because other people just talk about random bullshit! You talk about stuff that I care about too, because it’s about things that matter!
I love hearing your insights on everything, because what you have to say is some of the most important stuff I have to listen to, because you matter so much to me, and I would never want to miss out on what it is that you have to say because you are so influential in my eyes.
I want to play guitar for you, I want to write music about you (even though I already have, and it’s some of the best stuff I’ve written in a while, I would want to intentionally write you a song because you want me to write one for you, or maybe even several, or maybe even a few hundred fucking thousand million-bajillion-gazillion-trillion-million-billion!) I get lost in your eyes, and it’s really cliché to say that they’re like big brown pools of hazel tenderness, but that’s just exactly what they are!
You bring me joy.
You are definitely beautiful, and I love you.
I look at pictures of me from around a year ago and nostalgia stabs me in the back likea natural born Judas.
It’s 3:36 in the morning on a Saturday, and in this case, it won’t be a good one.
This is fucking ridiculous.
Why are people so fucking stupid, and why can’t they be as sure as they possibly can?
I keep listening to Poison Oak over and over again. It really gets me right now.
Who the fuck are you?
When thoughts as separated as these are put to text, it’s hard to see the correlation. I apologize. I believe in writing everything that you think, even when you think that what you’re writing is absolute garbage. Even if you think it’s a total piece of shit, you write it down because maybe it may mean something to you. You just like to dismiss the thought because (either consciously or subconsciously) you don’t want to have to deal with it, think it’s stupid, or that what you’re thinking is being thought in the wrong way. It’s a wall. That’s what writing is meant for though! You’re trying to find yourself! You have to get used to the idea of being free and getting rid of walls, and not rejecting your thought process because you think it sounds stupid (it might sound stupid, but that doesn’t mean the thought itself is, you just have to word it right.)
I miss you. A lot. Come back. Please.
OPS!
I’m (temporarily) mentally free. I’m happy. This is happiness.
This is that feeling I that I had felt when I was walking towards my future on a bright Monday morning in the late of August, with that distinct smell that I could never exactly pinpoint what it had been.
Refreshing.
The feeling where everything was fresh and unopened, like no one had touched the moment itself, because it had always been mine.
I think I found my harborcoat, now I just need to keep it on. It’s not a wall, but a blanket to let everyone know who I am.
I feel so far away from the way that I had felt when I watched Lost In Translation. I am assured.
I need my friends though. But she, she is all that I need. I can quit, but I need closure first.
It’s 7:30 AM, I have to slow down.
None of my problems matter, I’m just a whiny teenager and everybody goes through their own version of this one way or another. I am fine. I think it’s tasteless and child-like to share your problems with everyone, that’s why I’ve always been so edgy with blogging, because nobody really wants to hear this.
As of right now, I am having what someone in a drunken stupor would call “a moment of clarity.”
Here’s what I need to do make myself happy:
Remember, you are annoyed with the people you live with, don’t stop being annoyed with them. Show them you can be by yourself. So much animosity. I want to live alone. Do your self a favor and stop trying to prove yourself, do this for yourself, because you want it. You know your motivation, and you won’t get what you want by sitting on your ass. Go get it, you lazy fuck.
Now, for things I actually want to do:
That’s about it.
If I can get all that done, I’ll be the happiest person alive.
So much to do, so much time, no drive.
NOT THIS TIME THOUGH, I AM GOING TO GET ALL OF IT DONE.
Watch me.
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