I’m slowly slipping into a bubble of insecurity and lack of comfort in my own skin. I’m fine with who I am, a rare occurrence, but my looks, my body is a different story. I wish I could hide myself away from the world until I’m comfortable enough to reveal myself. Until I’ve fixed myself. But life doesn’t work that way and the world doesn’t have a pause button that you can press to your heart’s content. 

Why did everything stop? I miss the feeling of waiting for a letter from someone important to me, or writing one myself and anxiously trying to fit everything in without forgetting that small detail that I just had to say. I miss when people saw each other more than they spoke on Facebook, where people stuck to their RSVPs, when people actually did RSVP. I miss when the course of our lives was not subject to the disillusionment of reality, when a smile from a cute boy would create butterflies in your stomach, and before experience made you over-think every little detail that you began to fear everything. Or the flush on our cheeks after spending a long day laughing with friends, and when we didn’t completely detach ourselves from everything and everyone because it would make life easier. And I’m so tired of being afraid. I miss being happy, not that I’m necessarily unhappy, but I miss just being able to stop and look at my life and be genuinely content, and in that moment be unable to find the loneliness that seems to pervade my existence. And maybe that wish is unrealistic, and maybe I’m too engrossed with the world of fiction to even have realistic expectations on how life should be, but it’s what I want. And it’s what I’ll try to strive for. 

I don’t like sharing tv shows.

I’m strangely possessive about the shows I watch, and live in constant fear that someone I know is going to ruin them for me. I’m an incredibly private person offline. I keep to myself, and I don’t tend to share what has really been going on in my life. So when I come on to tumblr, I am free to obsess to my heart’s content and it’s acceptable for me to watch as many shows as I do. So when it comes to sharing one of these shows with people I know in real life, I’m incredibly hesitant. I’ll only recommend a show if I know that the person I’m sharing it with will love it as much as I do. It’s probably insane, yes, but I have had people ruin shows I’ve enjoyed before, and I refuse to let it happen again. 

I am incredibly disheartened by the lack of achievements in my life. I’m nineteen and sometimes I feel like I’m lagging behind everyone else my age. 

I’m going out on Friday night and I intend to work my entire outfit around these shoes. I haven’t bought them yet but I saw them yesterday and just fell in love. The heel is just amazing. 

I had a dream that I got married last night. It was filled with little blips like forgetting my shoes, smudging the make up on one of my eyes, I was running horribly late, and I’m fairly sure it took place in some hall that was connected to the bar in Crazy Stupid Love. But as silly and far from what I want my wedding to ever be like, it was truly a beautiful dream. I felt so incredibly loved, like ridiculously loved. It was that constant feeling of love that seemingly allowed me to not pay attention to the minor details that were going wrong. I could feel my love for this person, as if it were a tugging force just trying to get me to them, and I woke up with my heart feeling so full, and just yearning to go back to sleep, to continue that dream, to feel that love again. It’ll probably be years before that dream returns, but I think it showed me what my heart was capable of.

I’ve decided that should there be a halloween party this year (it isn’t major in Australia, unfortunately), I’m going to go as Red Riding Hood. :)

You know that feeling where you’ve finished the most beautiful book which was so devastating that you just want to cry but so amazingly inspiring that you just want to laugh? It’s currently 10pm here and you’ve found me in my current state. The house is asleep but I’m consumed by an eagerness to do something, to create something. I can’t help but be jealous of the authors I love so dearly who can create breathtaking stories and characters that grip you at your very core. One day I’m going to write something poignant, something that will mean something, away from the fluff and bullshit. It might not be amazing to everyone, but it’ll be enough for me. Someday, it will happen. Until that day, all I have is this ability to articulate my thoughts through written words. 

I would like to give my heart to someone. I think it’s one of those things you just need to do. No matter what the outcome, reciprocated or not, you need to put yourself out there. I’m longing for the chance to.

HW