Ever wished everything was straightforward, that everything made a whole heap of sense instead of being some sort of mumble jumble that just confused you more and more until nothing made sense anymore.

Why is it that the more u think of a person, and the more they mean to you, when you try to picture them, you just CAN'T see them. It's really ironic. And why is there such a fine line between everything?

Ever felt like, in this world, no one sees you clearly, like you were invisible or something. And even if they did see... they would see something else and not the true you. And then you wonder, how many people actually, in this lifetime will EVER see who you really are. And during these times, I feel disheartened because I trust people to try to want to get to know me, to not see through me and think I am boring or anything. Then I get depressed when I don't seem to measure up when it truly matters to me. And I wish I could ask a million whys and get all the answers that I need to console myself. But then it's not worth it, because it is so much easier to supress it all, the hurt, the anger, the sadness. It really is so easy to NOT feel anything. To just ignore what feelings you do have and get on with life.

I don't know why, but I feel that feelings sabotage us, and make us vulnerable and prone to pain, it magnifies the context it is in and sometimes, makes us lose the plot.

So, really, there is no answer, but I'm gonna keep searching because I need to. To survive, to prove that there really is a reason eventhough there might not be one, because I'm just built this way.

Quotes from a really smart and eloquent friend (if you see this, I hope you don't mind, but I just love your words):

Flowers. Sherlock Holmes once said something about flowers. He said that flowers are proof of God’s existence, because He had no need to make them this beautiful; He could have just made them functional. But they’re pretty, almost like God’s flourish during Creation.

Hanging out at night. There’s something about being up when there are less people about and more silent pockets of space that makes you feel unconquerable, vital. Like you can live forever, especially when the conversations just go on and on, wandering from topic to topic carelessly and smoothly, and as you get to know your fellow wee hours people in a way that you can only achieve when the other person is most important, not your next destination or action.

My friends. Come on. I complain and I think too much and I overanalyze what we say and do and turn you guys into concepts, but I love you all very much. All friends, both old and new. Thanks for making my life what it is; I only hope that I can say I have the same honour in yours.