Solipsism is not an option. But sometimes, I just gotta put on those horse-eye patches in order to keep myself from dismembering into shitty pieces.
There will always be something that I can't have, that I want oh so fucking bad.
They are indeed wise. But they know me no better than me.
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." Most of the beholders are bitches. But at least they're honest.
Usually, those with the sweetest mouth are those I can count on the least. They're too busy sugaring up, leaving no time for actual acts.
Most of the time, I feel uglier than what others might even give a damn about.
When he's giving too many excuses, I'm just simply not "the one". "The one" would not make him think twice about bloody chances and the rest of the world.
I feel the safest when I am with only me.
Sugar and spice, and everything sweet and nice, are not the only words to express optimism. I have my own language, though it is mostly covered in blood and terror. Bollocks.
Turning twenty nine this year, I realize, what I am yearning so badly, is an adventure in a faraway land, to fight dragons and demons, to conquer evil kings and queens, to woe the handsome prince, to discover the fruit of happiness, and to die in a noble battle for just.
*playing: This Is Not A Love Song - Public Image Ltd
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