You asked me if I am happy, and well.

All I can say is that life is a battle, and I will wear my scars proudly.

I know there are many things I try not to see or acknowledge,

I hide things and shake off negativity as best as I can.

But sometimes things keep seeping out,

people get close, and I fight to keep them from hurting me.

I try and try to stop wanting more out of my current situation,

as cliche as it is, I keep getting greedy.

So to be happy, I will stop.

If you like me, fine.

If you don't, fine.

If you think I am ugly and uncool, fine.

I want to stop trying to prove myself,

to be who I think you want me to be.

If you think I am bad, fine.

If you see what I am doing for you, fine.

If you don't, I will continue doing them anyway cause I know you need me to be like that.

I want to be happy and make the best out of everything.

Really, who doesn't?

"Others imply that they know what it is like to be depressed because they have gone through a divorce, lost a job, or broken up with someone. But these experiences carry with them feelings. Depression, instead, is flat, hollow, and unendurable. It is also tiresome. People cannot abide being around you when you are depressed. They might think that they ought to, and they might even try, but you know and they know that you are tedious beyond belief: you are irritable and paranoid and humorless and lifeless and critical and demanding and no reassurance is ever enough. You’re frightened, and you’re frightening, and you’re “not at all like yourself but will be soon,” but you know you won’t."

-Kay Redfield Jamison

I feel the need for a lengthy post/rant.
So many many many things I would like to express, but I just can't find the words for it.
I ain't a master in any language and that sucks really bad.
When I browse through tumblr, which is fast becoming my favourite thing to do cause there's just so many qoutes, photographs and reflections that ring loud and true, I am envious.
Envious, the way they protray thoughts and insights about life.
Envious, that pretty things are so easily shared and found.
Envious, cause I can never be that original or resourceful or literatureish.
Envious, some tumblrs are just.. total cool.
Hmm, repeating words make me feel like I am making a stronger point.



Intently I stare at magic other people wove.
And wish I could be like that.
Wish I lived in that world.
Wish can I can write like them, see the same things.
wish wish wish wish.
Love good blogs.
love love love love.

:/