I felt a dream

I love it when a song, dance, and picture could just bring back all these emotions. I feel like I could do whatever I ever wanted to do as a child. I mean EVERYTHING (which actually includes finding unicorns). I also remember how my mom has always said how hard it is to reach for dreams, but if a low life like Perez Hilton can have his own empire, why can't I?

I got the brains to through a story out there. A story that would make Stephenie Meyer stir in her sleep. I want a story that would be treasured for so long, another century would call it a beautiful classic.

That's the sad part about writing a story. You have to put as much of you in there as possible. When you die, your story a legacy that lets people know you existed. It's scary thinking of it that way, but somehow romantic. I wouldn't mind dying as long as my story is out there.

Not so fetch

I was talking to a friend on the phone just a few minutes ago and she said the most strange thing to me, "You would probably end up like one of those girls that's stays with their mom and goes from job to job like a hobo."

I wittingly responded by saying "No, if anything I would end up like one of those starving writers who goes into Starbucks and writes chapters on napkins only soon to be a great auther with her own running series."

I then snapped saying that I did have a story in mind (though still struggling with chapter one). We then went on to thinking what costume she'll get for Halloween. The whole time, I couldn't help but feel so hurt that she said that. I don't know if she was serious about it or just kidding. It still bugs me. I always thought we were pretty tight and now to know she would say something like that makes me a little pissed. Sure, we used to call each other whore and skank, but she never said it in such a mean tone.

I look back at my friends now and realized that we really don't call each other names. Sure, we say bitch, but it's nothing so heavy that would surely put us down. I am trying to think still who am I surrounding myself with and if it was a good idea to still let them in.

I'm still confused with what I want. All I know is that is just one more person I want to prove wrong. Vengeance is wicked, but it's perfectly natural.

Confession of Infatuation

My heart just seems to ache more for the one I cannot have. How can Aphrodite be so cruel to let my eyes fall upon a beautiful creature? I knew the world was unfair, but it is now officially something I cannot understand anymore.

I want to sing the name and kiss upon the gentle angels lips. I want these words to be read. I am afraid to know the aftermath of it all.

A strange act

I don't know why I do half the things I do. I don't know why I like my pen names, I don't know why I don't care much for college, and I especially don't know why knowing every move he makes gets me so happy. It's a very simple thing. I called myself someone else on facebook in order to get a closer look at him. We only chatted once or twice.

After years of admiring him and believing he was the best thing that happened to me, I have finally begun to realize that he was nothing more than an average, kiss-ass who doesn't have the balls to say what is really going on. Still, I follow.

Maybe it was the fact that I spent half my life being with this person and there is this pride I have that absolutely refuses to end things. How sad is that? For those who read this and think it is low to cyber-stalk someone, I would like to verify that I have no intentions on threatening this person. It's a sad confession, but a confession that I had to write eventually. One day I will see them in person gain and it would all be harmless. I just hope that by than, I would be the one with the better life.