You Had Me At Hello.

My heart beats me senseless.

"Let's just be friends.. Ok?"
"We say that, don't we?"

Moods are silly little rabbits, aren't they? And we're all just stuck in wonderland. Chasing them down holes. We never really catch a mood, do we? Because if we did.. well. That'd just be us, always, wouldn't it? It'd eat us alive. That's why we chase, we'll never catch; but we have to look. When we catch a bad rabbit, we can't hold onto it. We need to chase, to find the brighter ones. If we just gave up, well we'd be stuck wouldn't we? Bored. Senselessly bored. We cry until we almost drown.. But we don't that, don't we? Cry ourselves out, until we can only swim away from the bad. And we can't stuck in places too, don't we? You just have to wait it out. We can't let things get to us. And sometimes, they're just bad dreams. But even bad dreams have their little perks. We learn from them. Learn not to be afraid. But I can't help but be afraid. And I am. Terribly, I am. I don't know why, and quite really, I shouldn't be. But I can't face losing anyone, not again. So I'm holding on. And I don't want to hold on to tightly. I don't want to burst my balloon before I can let it go.

I'm a terrible little emo kid, aren't I? I'm always sad. Sometimes I get that sad, I can't even cry. But I'm not sad now. And I don't plan to be until I come home after the holidays. That's when we'll get our little emo kid back. I hate coming home. I always have. Just for the fact it's home. But now, I have a reason to hate it. I hate this place. No one's here. No one I need. But, once I learn to live again, things'll be okay. I really don't like running though. And if I leave next year. That's what I'll be doing. Running. But you can only run so far, for so long. And I'll face things, eventually. But sometimes, you can't fix what's broken, you can only try and use the broken pieces to fix other things. And I guess that's a good idea. Use the pieces of something that healed me, to fix everything else. One day, I'll stop running. One day.

Letting go can be painful, yet pretending that everything's okay makes it even worse

I'm tired. Tired of pretending like I'm okay. Sometimes, I feel okay. Like every one's holding me together. Sometimes it's just fake, or it's real; I can still just feel it.
Like a bruise beneath a band aid. You can't see it, and you can't really feel it, unless you hurt it. But you know it's there. You can feel it's real, and you want it gone.
But I just want to be gone. Sometimes, that's what I wish. That I could just pick up my things and walk away. As far away as I could get. I don't think anyone would come for me. Try find me. I really don't. But I think I'm okay with that. Maybe I'm not. But I will be.
I'm tired of being afraid. I'm afraid of alot. And I'm tired of wondering. There's always what ifs. Always. And no matter how many band aids I put over them. I still know they're there. But that's okay, because I have my answer. It's not a what if. But it's an answer, a cure to the bruises. My band aid. And no one ever said love was easy. But loving her? Loving her is easier then breathing.
But I'll always have what ifs. No matter what.

"I'm better. Totally better."

6:55 AM

How do you pick up the threads of an old life?
How do you go on when in your heart you begin to understand there is no going back?
There are somethings that time cannot mend, some hurts that go too deep, that have taken hold.

I read, play video games and break hearts for fun. I'm obsessed with not caring what people think, only further proving I care.
I'm sadistic, masochistic and one of the nicest people you'll ever meet when I want to be.
I can't sing, I can't dance, and I don't know karate.
One night with me, and you'll be questioning your sexuality.
I adore Audrey Hepburn and black and white movies.
Shakespeare, Hemingway, Motzart, Beethoven and Frodo.
My sword isn't the only thing that could penetrate your flesh.

Casablanca sucked anyway.