and you keep whispering the same story to yourself ‘i'll be unhappy now because that'll make me happy later. because that's how a story works.’ so your happiness will always happen later, never now. life isn't a story. life is chaos.

I'm afraid to be optimistic and postitive because I'm afraid people will think I'm stupid. Living in this world, I'm afraid to want anything more than the basics. I'm afraid to dream because disappointment will kill me.

I'm starting over again. I need to change. I need to find myself again, or at least another part.

She was often restless to the point of irritability. She simply liked to feel that she was prevented from leaving, that she was needed.

We wonder why black and white photos capture our soul. I think it's because without color, we aren't drawn to the make up and color of our eyes, or our hair, or how tan our skin is. Black and white captures the innocence on one's face and the hurt they've gone through to feel vulnerability. The glow we see comes from inside, brightening our eyes, our skin, our smile. It grabs the truth that liberates us.

I'm in one of those moods that nothing is really wrong in my life, but my brain keeps on insisting that there is. or maybe it's my heart that's doing the insisting. I can't really tell. You know that feeling?

And in the end, I'll end up smiling. Pretending I don't care, but baby, I've never cared this much before.

He didn't recognize her at first. Hair cut short; him used to it being so long. Colored red; instead of it's natural brown. Mostly, her smile changed. It wasn't so forced. You could tell she was happy without him.