Bear with me: Life is like a thread. A long, thin thread stretching from birth to death.
Sometimes you have to lose something to make you really realize how much you wanted it…or appreciated it. Okay; fine. That was really cliche. But I guess it is still true.
Telegrams used to end sentences in stop. So they knew where to stop a sentence and start a new one. Stop. Sometimes I wish I could just do that to people. While they’re talking, I’d just say stop. So they know they should. Stop.
It’s a really weird feeling when you make plans and expectations for how you think your life will be, then something changes and you realize your life won’t be that way at all. You think back and you try changing just one thing and seeing if it would make a difference. You pick a different thread and try to follow it all the way to its end. But it gets harder and harder to trace as you go along. You hit some snags, it gets frayed, and you just can’t untie that knot. So you give up. You don’t know where that thread would’ve led you. You’ll never know.
One of the best similes I’ve read was in a Harry Potter book. J.K. Rowling compared Harry trying to remember one of his dreams like trying to hold sand in his hands. The harder he tried to hold onto it, the more difficult it became. Life is kind of like that. The harder you try to make good use of your time, the faster it seems to pass you by.
Sometimes I wish time would just…I don’t know.
Do you ever wish you were someone else?
Sometimes I get jealous of other people’s lives.
Don’t you ever wish you could be like someone else. Someone that you respect so much, that you think they are ridiculously cool? That you’d totally date if they were a different gender?
Okay, maybe not that last one.
Then I wonder if there’s someone out that envies my life. There must be, right? There’s has to be that one person, I think. Someone who wishes they could have as many friends, or be as social, or as good looking. I’m not any of those things, but none of my friends think they are either. That doesn’t mean it isn’t true. They always brush it off. Psh.
The people I envy aren’t perfect. They aren’t attractive. They aren’t honest, trustworthy, kind, or realistic. Aloof, ridiculous, impassionate, uncaring. But they’re real. Some kind of real. Somehow, in my mind, they are more definite than I am. Heh, maybe they even envy me.
Psh. Yeah right.
So…do I ever wish I was someone else?
So it’s august. That month nobody likes.
The weather isn’t quite as nice anymore. The people don’t seem as happy. There aren’t any holidays. You forget what number month it is. You even forget to capitalize it when you talk about it.
School’s coming. I don’t know whether to be depressed or ecstatic.
I hate that I like tomatoes now. I used to hate them. I used to hate how much they tasted like tomatoes. Hate how mushy they were when you bit into them, and hate how they filled your mouth with something that tasted like disgusting nothing. And now I like them. It makes me feel like I’m growing up, getting more mature. And I hate that feeling.
(Source: fromme-toyou)
It isn’t less effort. It is more convenience. We pay for convenience. It may not be smart, but at least know what you’re talking about.
(via nhanexistent)
I think you mean “Anyone is automatically a lot more funny when they’re attractive”
(via alyson-noele)
It’s hard to be self-conscious when you’re doing something about it.
