I think its a pretty sad reflection on society that weekends dont signal the end of a week anymore. sure,we feel that false sense of freedom on a friday afternoon, but then we realise that we have more than 5 days worth of work to be done. In fact, we probably have about 8, which we need to cram into 7, with the aid of many a caffeinated beverage. I can honestly say i can feel my very self being consumed by the endless “to do” list which is my current life. I miss my sun and i miss my sunday sleep ins and I miss the sand in my hair and the salt on my skin. hurry summer. save my weary soul from modern life.
There were some days I would say “I could give you everything” and truly believe that I could…
If you had have asked me a year ago if i was a serious relationship person i would have thrown my head back and laughed. Traditionally I dont do serious. Im not promiscuous by any means, but ive always thought of myself as a commitnaphobe. I never even envisioned myself settling down. I would have various soulful, musical boyfriends, be swept up in whirl wind romances and eventually become a cat lady… but here I am, waltzing in kitchens and feeling electricity in your fingers and singing along with you to “our” songs in bed. to be honest im terrified.
you’re the the one that i want, please keep wanting me.
reality is a kill joy. its all fine and dandy until you realise that, someday, the boy you love, is going to love someone else, and one day he will marry some one else and have someone elses children, in someone elses house in someone elses town. basically hes going to be someone else, and you’ll be yourself. somewhere with someone. or possibly no one. its a certainty. like death and taxes. although im fairly sure i can evade the latter.