I’m not artistic at all. I wish I was.
I haven’t been able to write anything in MONTHS. DO YOU KNOW HOW FRUSTRATING THIS IS. I seriously just want to pull my hair out. Sure, I’ve been able to jot down random unsubstantial dribble, BUT BESIDES THAT? Nothing. I’m majoring in writing. MAJORING. How am I supposed to fucking MAJOR in something that I can’t even do! That’s like asking Paris Hilton to cure AIDS. ...
I hate this feeling. It’s been a day. One day, but I feel like it’s been a million. Why do I let myself fall into ruts, espectially over something so so so stupid. It’s like I can’t help myself, or I secretly enjoy feeling miserable. Maybe I just imagine this is a better feeling then actually being happy or trying to do anything except to complain about it. Damn, I sound...
hard believer - first aid kit
how do I always find a song that fits my mood perfectly?
Their hands intertwine; skin against skin and everything seems alright. She’s wistful and warm, attempting to hold onto this feeling. She knows that it’s useless. She understands that feelings are fleeting, and that eventually memories are too. But she tries so hard. He’s so unsure. Unsure of what’s happening, if things will work out. Sometimes he’s so unsure he can hardly...