More stuff goes here:


More than likely a rant.

The trouble is, nowadays I'm not sure what form a happy ending comes in.

I spend all of my time with the one person who completely understands me, instead of stretched and tangled between a string of people who never actually cared. I know I'm happy.

I wanted to let myself out, to weave my way back in to the life I used to have, even a small amount. The one person I gave my few minutes to, the only time I was willing to share with someone who wasn't my life, and he tried to give me reasons for why everything I knew wasn't real. He tried to wipe away the surface of my life, make everything I've ever known completely disappear.

The problem is, I don't need to start over. I don't need that cleanliness, that feeling that everything is going to be new from here on out. I don't need that. I need my familiarity. I need the repetitiveness, the same things I see every day happening every day STILL.

I need that to feel real. I've never been so happy. I've never completely been myself, completely known myself. Not until now.

The problem is, there are so many strangers in this world. People who feel worthless, and therefore try to make you feel just as hopeless alongside them. People who don't know themselves, and therefore can't give anything away.

There's nothing to share if you have absolutely nothing. It makes sense. So they have to make something of themselves, whether good or bad, something to be remembered. Something to be loved, even if superficially. Even if in the wrong ways.

Those who have turned their bodies into photographs, some small way to keep their memories alive. Those who will go to any means to numb themselves. Those who will swallow anything you have to offer, only to try and make themselves feel real.

There are so many people that hurt, so many people that are so unsure of what life truly has to offer. There are so many people that feel alone. There are so many damn people in this world that live their lives from one situation to the next, trusting nothing and absolutely no one. Believing not one thing anyone has to say and for good reason. There are people who have nothing to call their own, and there are people who don't want the things they have because of how absolutely miserable these things make them.

I wish life were easier, more promising. I wish there were a guarantee that you were going to go out with something good, something that made it all worthwhile.

I wish I could say everyone died without ever having known the bad in this world. Or at least that no one ever ended life without having had one good thing to call their own.

I wish it were possible.

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