I know I'm only seventeen &being confused has been all that I'm feeling half my life, but despite th constant dilemma, I like how I spend most of my time figuring things out, shaping &reshaping my influences in my subconscious; asking questions &answering them myself, or asking questions &get pissed at everybody who can't answer mine. Being confused should be harmless, &at some point, it makes me feel like a dog; sniffing other dogs &things around; but at others, I usually have hard time swallowing natural conventional facts that might be ugly &then get over them a few days later.

I wish I'm talented at something; anything at all, I get instantaneously jealous at supertalented people who can score a career with their great deal of talents; like idk some footballer who have some insane football skills to show off in every game who btw, can seal some pretty crazy $$$$$ per week, maybe more than I will ever earn per year. Or, if we put aside her drunk life, I could handle Amy Winehouse's gifted package better than sh could; born with a wicked voice &a unique sentiment that captivates me most of my audio time, who gets to kill two birds w one stone when sh entertains.

Now, I love my mother. We all love our mothers dont we? Dad too, okay, somehow. But let's be honest here. You &I both know they destroyed any chances of me (us) having a majestic life. They could've sent me to piano lessons when I was 5; or send me to stage school to develop myself as some great dancer perhaps, or or enroll me in drawing classes so I won't be so amateur in drawing; not squeeze me into any school that would be unlucky enough to accept me, resulting me to work like assholes from th bottom to th top &having similar but puny possibilities of reaching success, like everybody else, who I should include, are so much more hardworking &intellectual than I am. With a person as normal as me; who can't get any shot of fame & big $$$$$ in any circumstances, who resorts being a self-proclaimed critic, whom everybody shuts whenever I start to speak. I'm derangely mediocre; I am plainly good at evth but not ultimately brilliant in any. But I wont recur to self pity no i wont i wont i wont.


Anw, it's safe to say I'm pretty happy. I love A's company no less than when we first met. He is my warmth in this cool. He is so good to me, so wonderful and caring and loving, &a good listener no doubt. Despite instinctively opposing to fundamental examples of a real classic relationship, I get so anxious sometimes I can't breathe when I get reminded tt he's not around me. I feel so attached to him although we dont want to be conventionally hooked to th extent of being tied down. I know its tough; sometimes I wish he would hook up w someone else over at uk, so I have a reason to despise &ignore him but even being a distant is kind of fun, haha. For th time being at least.

I think me meeting him is one of th best thing that had happened in my life. I know most of my friends are worried tt I'll grow too attached &then narrow myself down to spend few yrs to get over him if I were ever to be disappointed but truth is; I dont seek a relationship out of him. Him being present has already awarded me w th only happiness that I could ever feel; which is hope, which is th only happiness I could afford.

Anw, I have a few reasons to smile about lately, which I find weird. Considering myself so rotten &easily irritated; I feel like slapping myself everytime I smile. I tend to smirk when I listen to Demi's catch me (introduced by syaf), or Like a star, or Stand by me, or when I start sketching, or when I wind down th car window &feel th wind forcing open my mouth to reveal my not-so-pretty set of teeth, or when I sleep. Okay I should stop it; but one more thing, I want to share stand by me &I hope you'd freakishly smile when you listen to it. Enjoy.