Personality Flaws

number 812: Always believing the worst things people say about you, but doubting the good.

to me You are perfect, and my wasted heart will love you, until you look like this

When it comes to relationships - I am a mess.

More than a mess - pathetic. I am indecisive, anxious, and far from confident. And it is not because I don't know who or what I want, just a debilitating fear of pursuing it. Why? For failure? Rejection? Perhaps. But also for the fear that I will, if successful in my pursuit, mess things up more than they already are. How fucked up is that? Fear of commitment, fear of failure, fear of success. In my own little screwed up world, I just can't win.

And that, by god, is a depressing statement. For fear of sounding like Carrie Bradshaw (I'll refrain from using the statement "I couldn't help but wonder")- why is it at this point in my life, when I have so many good things working for me - school, AIESEC, Egypt - that all I can focus on is the fact that I am missing out on this aspect of life. It is not for lack of wanting - just for lack of, I don't know, balls I guess. I know what I want, just not how to get it.

Just going to continue to get the shit kicked out of me by love, I guess.

I want to love you madly...

Alone. Again. Happy Valentine's Day.

We suffer everyday, what is it for
These crimes of illusion, are fooling us all
And now I am weary and I feel like I do

Its only you, who can tell me apart
And its only you, who can turn my wooden heart

The size of our fight, its just a dream
Weve crushed everything I can see, in this morning selfishly
How weve failed and I feel like I do

Its only you, who can tell me apart
And its only you, who can turn my wooden heart

Now that weve chosen to take all we can
This shade of autumn, a stale bitter end
Years of frustration lay down side by side

And its only you, who can tell me apart
And its only you, who can turn my wooden heart

Its only you, who can tell me apart
And its only you, who can turn my wooden heart
- - - - - Only You, Portishead

my achy-breaky heart.

tonight I wrote a love letter.

it was addressed, dear sir.

and it will probably never go to the person it was written to. but it did feel good to write it. for the first time in a long time, admit how i really feel.



i just wish i had the courage to say it out loud.

stick figures and happy trees.

i

miss

this.

lately i have been thinking about how long its been since i did art stuff.
way too long was the answer.

art used to be an entire part of me. a huge part of my life, and now its completely absent from it. and i tried to do something the other day, and completely failed. not just that i didn't like it, but it didn't even come out. its like there is a huge mental block to return to this point in my life. and know people don't even recognize that part of me. if i was going to be home this summer, i would spend it painting. and playing with my camera. and writing like i used to. and remembering what it was like to have time to do things like that.
i can only hope that i can bring my camera to india and find it again. if not it would break my heart.