When you have one of the best days of your life, you write about it. When you have one of the worst days of your life, you write about it. When you feel like the world couldn’t be a better place, you write about it. When the world’s a bitch, you write about it. When you meet that special someone, you write about it. When you are pissed with someone, you write about it. When you’re full of hope, you write about it. When you feel like all hope’s lost, you write about it. Who would have thought that writing would be so important?

That said, today I write with a heavy heart. There are many things i have done in life. Some of which i am proud of, some of which i would rather not speak about. But never, NEVER, in that little brain of mine would i have thought that there are so many things between us that i would rather not speak of. It hurts to write about this, but when it hurts i know that i am getting better.

I think i like it better when i am a selfish prick. Just me. Fuck them all. Who gives a shit about showing care, concern, sympathy or whatever shit that a saint feels?

Perhaps you are right about things, us. You will never be the person i want you to be, and neither will i be the person you want me to be. Maybe we are the same kind of people. People who are meant to fly solo because no one can ever be good enough for us.