There's nothing interesting about me, except the fact that I really should stop switching blogs.

Another pretentious way of saying "Bitch, please."

I feel like I'm not allowed, or rather, in no position to feel any pain, or anything at all.

After all, the technicalities are laid out before the rest of the world, and the picture is contrasted in black and white. The encounter was one that was brief. Succinctly sweet, yet enough to throw me into a spiral of painful clarity. I'm yanked out of this saccharine blur by a figurative pair of ugly glasses, and now the scenery before me feels as foreign as it is clear.

How do I, or am I even supposed, to react to the new found truth?

I think I'm not cut out for casual dating.

Even the term itself irks me. There is nothing casual about me, or dating, put together. I don't know how to hold back, I don't know how much to put in. I follow what the heart entails, and my heart works in ways some might describe as 'aggressive'. While everyone else is dipping their feet into the water, I fall straight in; heart first and head last.

I'm not making sense now, so I'll just put this home bound train of thoughts on hold.

I pray you'll be happy, that someone typical enough who can fit those picturesque shoes, will come walking straight into your life one day. I hope that you'll finally be acquainted with love one day, and the tint your eyes view the world through will take new meaning like it is supposed to. You deserve to be nothing less than happy, and you deserve no one less than the one who can make you the happiest. You deserve to live and love, and know so surely that you have at the same time.

I wish you love, I wish you your end of the day.

Take care, you. (F)
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