Who says you need to love to be happy?
Seems I've never felt that way about anyone, and I'm probably one of the happiest people alive.
Independenceis more important to me than love, and it will always be. I'm the only person who will always be there for me, and who won't hurt me in anyway. Love is a nice idea, but independence is a nice reality any day.




There stood a time when we were livid,
Careless laughter and hair tosses amongst all other things.
Praised with our innocence, sheltered from harm, we thought we were invincible.
We used to sit under the shade of the trees, and feel the warm breeze sweep by us under summer skies,
Telling stories of harmful kisses and toying with hearts,
And never looking back.
We used to say we'd be like this forever, unchanging, unbreakable, never letting go,
Our friendships were sacred, but taken for granted.
Little did we know, the present becomes a memory,
The memory becomes forgotten, and what was once your childhood
becomes nothing more than footsteps in the sand.
Now you lie awake, sheltering yourself from harm (although quite impossible),
Breakable, fragile.
You may have grown up, but you have become exposed.
And having a larger frame, and a larger heart truly does not make you stronger.

I was watching Benjamin Button and i realized yhe world is completely lacking romance anymore, any kind. Its all about "fucking and chucking" and all of this business. Marriage leads to divorce now, divorce leads to a sex frenzy, which leads to more marriage, more divorce, and winding up alone. We don't have unrequited love anymore, I don't think we even know what that is nowadays. Too often we mistake lust for love, and in the end we get screwed over. We mistaken our own cowardice for independence, because being independent doesn't mean you aren't allowed to love. Anyways, all I'm saying is I am sick and tired with what is going on right now in our minds. We are becoming a shallow people, reckless, careless, disloyal, cowardly. Is there anything better out there?

Considering our ages, you would think that we can handle it...the truth. You would think that girls like us can you know, be fine with being told, "I'm not interested." Which I mean is actually the truth. We are old enough to deal with disappointment and rejection, its fine. We don't expect every person we are interested in to tell us we are the girls of their dreams, and they want us like we want them. Its life and things just don't work out that way. With that in mind, boys/men seem to get the wrong impression that we simply cannot handle the truth. They either breach all communication and begin to avoid, or they make up senseless lies that are shallow enough to be uncovered. So basically the point of this note is, if you don't like someone in that way, tell them. Of course rejection stings no matter who you are, but it feels nice not knowing you have to spend days contemplating what went wrong. Maybe you can be friends, or at least save both of you from a whole lot of unnecessary damage and baggage.

I think that the problem with me, with everyone is that we choose to classify everything we do as something. You classify yourself into one religion, into one style, into one genre, into one motif; and the thing is you force yourself to accept and enjoy everything that one category offers you. Even if you don't, you say you do, and you limit yourself. What we need to work on doing is being ourselves, and acquiring tastes that come from a variety of things. We should become inspired by everything, and open our eyes to more than one thing. This way you can form less biases, form broader perspectives, and be yourself...as far as being yourself can reach. Why limit yourself, when you can have a taste of everything?

Completely surrounded in the vanity held in your eyes,
Our egos reflecting off each other,
So luminous,
Its like they grow from the mere image.
You complete each others stories,
Of fantasies and late night tales,
Breathing into pillows,
Speaking soft and sudden languages,
That no one understands.
But its the beauty,
Of being a narcissistic queen.
Your pleasures can be found alone,
Staring into reflections of your own ego,
Not that of others,
Let alone, you never need the comfort of another touch,
At least you hope not.
But oh, you narcissistic devil,
How badly you want to indulge in other treats,
And to conquer everything,
Even unfamiliar grounds,
Even another person.
But day after day,
Night after night,
You will still find shelter in yourself,
Not that of others.
And that is the beauty,
Of being a narcissistic queen.

You can sit around and linger,
And watch the world drift by,
Drown yourself in tears,
Until your eyes run dry.

You can wish and hope and pray,
That someone will come along,
And sit outside your window,
Singing your favourite song.

You can slam your fists at walls,
Until your knuckles; raw and red,
Rage and desperation,
In a shallow thought attempt.

You can stand on top a bridge,
Lingering on plunging in,
You will regret the realization,
Your body has no fins.

Or you can salvage every hope,
Turn it into something more,
The door is shut, climb out the window,
You'll never know what lies in store.

You can patch up every hole you made,
and wipe those silly tears,
Realize that no matter what,
Someone will still be here.

And when you feel there's no one left,
And your soul is all alone,
You know that there are no numbers left,
On your imaginary phone...

Nobody can help you;
Not she, not him, nor I,
Know that you are always there,
And that my friend, is no lie.

Yeah we crash and burn, when we run through red lights,
We put up fronts when we only want some persistent bastard to shoot through them,
Unyielding to our hopes and dreams, smashing into them without any sort of readiness,
We kiss,
We tell,
But who are we kidding, tomorrow its just going to be another shallow drama,
Mixed up with some stupid lie she told her, who told him, who told her,
Now the world knows our business.
But you know, in the deepest pit of your body,
You know you're going to make it,
Even with some scratches, some bruises, some scars, tails of love affairs and staying up til 3AM,
Your Ipod on shuffle, crying out your eyes to those depressing beats.
Yeah, even still, you know that you will grow up sometime,
That all of this will be nothing, and you will laugh looking back,
Thinking yourself a completely naive idiot for believing your friends,
For believing in him, for believing in drama,
And for not believing in yourself.
You know that someday,
Some bright and shining day,
You will wake up, and know that you have finally
Grown up.