My thoughts are really out of order so I can't really write properly. So this is just a complete regurgitation of things I've been digesting lately.

  • “If you love two people at the same time, choose the second one. Because if you truly loved the first one, you wouldn’t love another one.”
  • People are annoying. Everyone thinks they have the best blog, or theirs matters more because they were the first ever to have one or they have perfect grammar or four of their best friends told them they're good at writing. No. No one cares about your fucking blog, or how happy you are, or that you have a perfect boyfriend or that you go to college and party every night. I don't care what you did today. I don't care when you moved out. Guess what. Everyone does it. You're not unique. If you want people to read and follow and reblog and whatever else you so desire, be fucking interesting at least. No one cares about your morning coffee. We care how many times you cut yourself. We want to know the story behind the time the guy you loved hit you. I want to know who starves themselves only to have a gap between their thighs. I hate blogs. I don't give a fuck how many people ever read this. This is for me. That's what a fucking blog is for. It's just a diary. It's not supposed to replace crying on the phone to your best friend or expressing your love to someone. 
  • I resent my mother for the things she said to me growing up. I resent my father for the things he says to me now. But a lot of the time, I miss them both more than anyone. I miss the people who destroy me.
  • Sometimes I wish someone loved me. But almost always, I'm just glad I don't have my heart in anyone else's hands. I don't owe anyone any part of me. No one expects this many texts in a day from me, or for me to say "I love you" at the perfect moment when all the planets align. I don't have to ask anyone when I want to leave the country. 
  • No one knows everything about me. I've given all these pieces to different people, but no one has the whole puzzle. And knowing that, it feels like no one really knows me at all.
  • All the things I'm excited for seem so far away. I'm terrified of what might get in the way. My path to true happiness is a clear one, but it's so long that it leaves room for obstacles.


  1. i will never tell anyone about how many times i've cut myself or the story behind the guy i loved who hit me, let alone in a blog . it's easier to talk about my cup of coffee .

  2. This makes me sad. But bullet two makes me extra sad.

  3. Fair enough, write whatever you like. I just think easy is boring.