If only we could go back in time, and save this world.

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Somehow this is what everything leads me back to. I do not know whether it the writing or the memory of our friendship that causes this relief. I will try to make this a habit, get it back into my system. I remember stopping writing because I thought it was what caused the hurting, but now that it has been months since I stopped writing, I can feel that hurt is always hurt. Maybe writing will help me clear things out. So that is what I'll do and maybe alongside it could improve my writing skills. 

I'm now in gymnasium studying in a science field with the main subjects biotechnology, maths and physics. Let me be honest, this is not quite what I would say is enjoying life. I hate physics and it is just something I seem to care about. But I somehow managed to get a good grade last term, and even though I'll be strongly disappointed by this upcoming term grade, ,I think that is what will make the most sense. I used to love maths, and in some part of my heart deep down I hopefully still do. But the lessons are way too unstructured, and my teacher is way too engaged with the material that he seems to forget that he is actually teaching young people, who are just now learning. Now to the amazing part, I love and enjoy biotechnology a lot. It's incredibly fascinating. But I feel like my interest isn't adequate compared to my fellow students, who all seem to be completely fascinated by science and studying. 

-Quick jump
   - I seem to have become someone I never thought I would be. Now well.... that is quite a lie. I knew that all the underlying pressure would get to me at some point, but I didn't see bursting out like this. I have moments in life where I really do enjoy living, but apart from these moments life is quite melancholic. 



Thursday, May 29, 2014

Dear,
What is the point with feelings? All it brings us is pain. I hate liking people. I know they won't like me back, but yet I have this small outbursts of hope. I'm a hopeless romantic but also a realist. Which messes up my mind. I genuinely thought I had a chance. I thought that I could be something someone wanted. But I'm not. I've never been. I'll never be. I need to stop wanting to be something someone wants. It should be enough for me to be, what I want to be.

Thursday, May 22, 2014

Out of all the boys he could have taken why did he take you. What did you do? What did I do? I thought time would heal everything. It's been 3 years now and I still can't accept the fact that you're gone. Will you please come take me with you? I'm ready to leave everyhting, if that means I can be with you.

Saturday, May 3, 2014

Dear,
They just won't get it. They won't ever get it, right? I don't even have energy enough to rant anymore.

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Dear,
Even if the world stopped turning round, would the downfall stop? No matter what I do, it ends up turning against me. I wanted to study, but my mood just totally fucked up real bad. I'm done with so much. I don't wanna do this. FAKE. Fake everything. Fake smile. Fake act of kindness. Fake love. Fake confidence. How long can we go on faking it all? Since when has faking been alright. Why do we continue living a lie? Because people tell us to? What do we even owe those people. I really don't get this whole life concept anymore.

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

I really want you to come back. I will not believe what they say. You couldn't be gone all of a sudden, just like that. You told me, that you'll be back. I told you to stay. But no, as the fucking stubborn kid you are, you wanted to prove me wrong. All because I didn't believe you had done a new piece. I actually did believe you. I just wanted to annoy you. Was I so annoying that you had to leave like this? Forever waiting?
I can't talk to anyone the way we did. And I'm sick of only being able to write my shit down, I want to talk you know. Will you just pretty please come back to me? Tell me it was all a sick joke?

Saturday, March 22, 2014

Dear,
I'm crying. I have no idea about the reason why. Are some people born to be broken? If so, am I one of those?

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