“In time, the hurt began to fade and it was easier to just let it go. At least I thought it was. But in every boy I met in the next few years, I found myself looking for you, and when the feelings got too strong, I'd write you another letter. But I never sent them for fear of what I might find. By then, you'd gone on with your life and I didn't want to think about you loving someone else. I wanted to remember us like we were that summer. I didn't ever want to lose that.”
-The Notebook

Memory is abstract, it doesn't express things as they really are, but simply as how you imagined them to be, how you felt when it was happening.

Were you ever moved by music,
or just a simple song so much,
that you just smile, and your heart starts to race every time you hear it
and you start to tap your foot to the beats? You just feel the music every time you put that CD in,
you feel the lyrics, the rhythms, the verses, the treble and the keys.
You understand what they are saying, and every time you close your eyes, you just see the whole story unravel behind your eye lids.

I guess the reason I think I'm nothing is because no one has ever fought for me. I believe that if I was really, truly, worth it, that somewhere along this road, someone would've fought for me to stay, but instead, I always wound up walking away.

You spend twelve years of your life trying to learn how to live, but every time you try to live in those twelve years you're told you're wrong. Then everyone you've grown to love is taken away, and scattered. That's what they should teach you- how to say good-bye.



The repetition of every day life kills. It ruins the flow of my creative juices. No joke. On days that I sleep in, I go to bed feeling exhausted, and yet, I never sleep on the weekends, when I should want rest. I don’t. It would be a waste of freedom. Why spend time on parole in seclusion, you know? I’m only tired on weekdays - only when I know I have to drag myself out of my fucking room to take a shower and go to school, and then to work. Maybe I’m not tired. Maybe it’s just a natural defense against running myself into the ground with routine. I feel pale, and sick, and run down… For no reason. I eat right. I see the light of day. I breathe fresh air all the time. I love the outdoors. Shit. I love my life. But between Monday and Thursday I feel so transient… My head isn’t in the clouds My feet aren’t on the ground. Where am I? I don’t know, but frankly, it sucks.

Whatever you do in life will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it because you can’t know. You can’t ever really know the meaning of your life. And you don’t need to. Just know that your life has a meaning. Every life has a meaning, whether it lasts one hundred years or one hundred seconds. Every life, and every death, changes the world in its own way. Gandhi knew this. He knew his life would mean something to someone, somewhere, somehow. And he knew with as much certainty that he could never know that meaning. He understood that enjoying life should be of much greater concern then understanding it. And so do I. You can’t know. So don’t take it for granted, but don’t take it too seriously. Don’t postpone what you want. Don’t leave anything misunderstood. Make sure the people you care about know. Make sure they know how you really feel, because just like that. It could end.

I believe we write our own stories and each time we think we know the end, we don't. Perhaps luck exists somewhere between the world of planning, of chance and in the peace that comes from knowing that you just can't know it all. Life's funny that way... once you let go of the wheel, you might end up right where you belong.





Positive multiplied with a negative is still a negative. Meaning, the right thing at the wrong time is still wrong.

Here's to the real girls. The real girls that will always be there for you. The real girls that don't have to wear too much make up to look beautiful because there beautiful just the way they are. The real girls that are nice and have a big heart unlike the girls that are stuck up and always get boys attention. The real girls that know that you have to work your ass off to get the things you want. The real girls that never really get noticed because there will always be another girl always first in line. The real girls that are confident in there selves but not slutty. The real girls that have an amazing personality but the boy doesn't see it because he's too busy noticing the girl that have big boobs and a big ass. The real girls that cry because that stupid boy just noticed her way too late.

In greek, “nostalgia” literally means “the pain from an old wound”.
It’s a twinge in your heart, far more powerful than memory alone.
This device isn’t a spaceship, it’s a time machine.
It goes backwards and forwards, it takes us to a place where we ache to go again.

I want to believe in it all again.
In art, fate and love and I want to believe that I've made the right choice...
and that I'm on the right path and there's still time to fix the mistakes that I've made and I guess I want hope.

Never settle for less, always strive for more.

When I think about what we used to be, I think of how a text from you would make my day.How whether we talked or not would determine if I was happy or sad. How I was always wondering how you really felt, never knowing for sure. I think you were afraid to show me everything, afraid to commit. Or maybe you just really are a player and didn't ever actually like me, but I don't believe that. I guess truly I won't ever know for sure, but what I do know is that I never want to have that feeling of letting someone have complete control over my emotions ever again, especially when in the end you just let me down.





No matter how fast I ran, I couldn't escape the reality that he was gone.














Everybody's changeing, and I don't feel the same. 







I know it's coming, the day when you wake up & don't think about me, don't wonder what I'm doing, & aren't tempted to text me.The day you go toschool for yourself or even worse, for someone else. The day you feel happy because of someone else. The day you laugh because of someone else, the day you want someone else, the day you hug someone else & finally the day you smile because of someone else. Not for me, not because of me, not even directed at me. & that's when I'll miss you most.






If I whispered your name, I bet there'd still be a spark.

Did he say he'd never felt that way before? Not for anyone?
That you were special and different and beautiful?
Yeah, it's nice to hear isn't it? I bet you felt good... pretty much on top of the world, right?
Did he say he'd loved you even before he met you?
He's sweet isn't he. I bet you he said he'd catch you when you fell, that he'd always be there for you.
That he loved the way your hair fell into place and the way your smile lit up the whole room.
He'd text you in the morning saying: "Morning beautiful" and then "Goodnight babe" at night, making you feel wanted. 
He'd hold you close when he was with you and kiss the top of your head. 
He'd hold your hand to show everyone you were his, and kiss you in front of your friends. 
He could tell when you were upset and he'd go out of his way to make you feel better. 
He'd sing to you while you slow danced and he'd tickle you until you couldn't breath. 
Did he take your breath away when you saw him in the hallway? Yeah, he did that to me to. 
He made me feel weak in the knees when he stared until he met my eyes. I bet he got you with his looks too, right?
With his dark curly hair and deep brown eyes. 
He was tall... and he was strong enough to make you feel safe.
All your girlfriends were jealous right? Mine too. 
But then he became clingy, and he became abusive and mean. 
He'd make you feel guilty and bad and he'd cry to make you give in. 
He'd get jealous of every guy who ever gave you attention and make you stop talking to them. 
He'd constantly be touching you till the point you want to scream. 
He'd bug you until you told him what was wrong, and then he'd blame himself. 
He'd complain that you didn't come over enough...
That you didn't send him pictures of yourself like his past girlfriends. 
He'd compare you to 'the ex' and make you feel like shit right? 
I hope he didn't compare you to me.... because that feeling sucks. 
No one could have warned you of this. 
You had to go through it yourself.
You had to go through everything this boy put you through and you need to learn from him. 
Learn from each and every thing he says. 
There's one thing in common with everything he says....
You have to realize; this boy, is a liar.

xoxox