I love to write.
I don't know what to talk about. What do you wanna talk about? Life? There's nothing going on in my life. It kind of sucks to have no friends. Well no friends who actually care about you. It does. It sucks that all the nice people I know live an hour away, which I have no ride to. You know? Yeah. Ah. It's like nothing else. Having friends.. I remember when I used to be surrounded by them. But hey, I changed, things change.. I should be happy right? Oh, but I'm not. Never happy. That's me. I am never happy with anything. Although I have so much to be happy about. My moods are ever-changing, rearranging, never constant. I wish I could be. Constant, I mean. If I was then maybe I'd be able to hold on to people? I'd be able to know when to stop and when to go?
Forrest Gump was right. Wasn't he? Life is like a box of chocolates. If you think about it, it could even be the meaning of life. But probably isn't. I sometimes wonder. What if there is life out there that we haven't seen? What if they are the ones that hold the answer to our being? It's probably true. I mean, I am a strong believer in Jesus, but you can't help but wonder. The meaning of life could be just to serve him, follow him. But I have the feeling he has so much more in store for us. I have a feeling he's just beginning.
I've come to the conclusion that boys are just not for me. Not girls either, sorry women. I've decided to be single forever. And just to go for i alone, I can adopt, or I can get some weirdos sperm. I can make it work. I know I can make it work. It doesn't make any sense. I need a life. Ha!
Do you have friends at school who make fun of you? Make fun of you just to see others laugh? Eh. I hate people like that. I have people like that. Summers here and I find myself not enjoying it because of the suckiest school year I have ever come across. I wish I could go back and change it. Oh man, one mistake erased.. My whole life would be so different. If only. If only we were granted that wish. To erase. I wish I was a pencil. I could make all the mistakes I want. Go back and erase, make it perfect, positively perfect. I would spell love, thousands of different ways, yet go back and spell it poetically, spell it so it matched my heart. Love would mean a different meaning for me, if I was a pencil. I would spell it with the letters of my lovers name. If I had one, as a pencil. But still I find myself a pen. Ink.
Permanent and noneraseable.
