I really care about what the people closest to me think of me. It bothers me when they disapprove or pick at me. It makes me cry when I feel I disappoint them or when they make me feel like what I’m doing isn’t good enough for them.
I’m a soldier. I fight. I carry on. But I’m only human … and sometimes I want someone to take my hand, smile at me, and tell me that I’m important, that they’re proud, or that they love me.
I always wish on shooting stars, I always wish for that.
The sun sparkles off water.
A bird passes you.
All reasons to believe that somewhere in the world, somehow, great things are possible.” —I Wrote This For You, May 2008
and while she’s not perfect, I miss her.
I am wayyy to ticklish for my own good. It verges on being slightly ridiculous …
I have some of the best best friends I could ask for :) I’m very grateful.
It wasn’t really all bad, but it was very up and down. And “the lows are so extreme, that the good feels fucking cheap.” and I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore. So many thoughts running about in my head, I wish I could just make it all stop.