Most love stories dont work out because there's too many people who believe they should have a say in what happens. God, do cigarettes add perspective to life. I feel like cigarettes are the only constant part of my life. And in my age, I need that certainty, of there being something, at least one thing, that no one can take away from me.

I remembered the sea shelled chocolates my grandmother used to give us when we were little. Each was like a treat in itself. And then I remembered that that is a memory from over fifteen years ago. And it will never happen again. Time is like a speeding race car, and you're inside it, and if only you could get out and stay, if only it could go ahead without you and you could stay in something beautiful. If only I didnt have to keep driving.

I bought my first cigarette pack today. Life's too fucking stressful.

The leaves are yellow outside my window, it's autumn and it's beautiful. There's so much beauty out there but tonight all I see is sadness. But it's a nice kind of sadness because it's the sadness of having tried but failed. But the attempt matters more than the fall. Today I went through my third break-up. I looked in his loving eyes, this beautiful boy who if let, would give me the universe, and then I said it. And it scares me because I cannot figure out whether I'm just broken, unable to feel anything and that I'll live my whole life dreaming of something bigger and always conforming for something small, or whether there's a reason for why I have to wait. And if it's that, then that's fine, I'll wait forever if I have to, I told you before Peter, haven't I? But if it's not... I'm just so afraid to be dissapointed. I'm afraid that I'm doing something wrong.

There's this boy in New York city and I love him... and I guess nothing else matters that much. Because regardless of how cynical any one of us really is, love obliterates that. It creates a romantic out of every cynic.

I don’t know how to be something you miss…

You gave me roses and I left them there to die

Listening to Taylor Swift's new album 'Speak now' is making me wish for something great, for something really really great. I've never really been the kind of girl to jump head first into love, not that I was ever put in a position where I could have done that. I grew up amongst a messy divorce and for an 8 year old I saw too much and heard too many conversations, and so childhood taught me that life is messy, men can be terrible people, and hearts break too easily. I was taught to not be stupid. I was taught to stay safe and to put my interests above those of men. I was never taught to love. To recklessly love... And here I am listening to these beautiful words and some of the lyrics I want to engrave in my skin and carry around with me like precious pebbles, because they're so alive, so real and so young. That's youth, isn't it? That's loving without looking ahead, living for today and not tomorrow, what we're meant to be doing. What I never did because something inside me taught me not to. And I listen and I envy her, I envy her ability to be so beautiful and young, and I envy her for feeling so much. I envy those girls who loved, and love, and will keep doing it in spite of everything that tells them not to.

I feel so old, so grown up and way ahead of my own age. It's almost like I'm just looking at all these kids around me and I don't feel like a part of it, because I'm not a child, because my innocence left me before it had time to join me, and because I taught my heart to behave and never gave it freedom to be reckless.

I wish for love, for feeling something immense and for the inability to be rational because rationality ceases to exist and there is no definition for right and wrong. I want to fall in love. I want you, Peter Pan, there's something inside me that tells me that you're the reason why it never worked in the past. Because it wasn't meant to. All that was meant to be is you. All that is meant to be, is you.

I miss the past. And I fear that the future will never be able to give me what the past took away.

I've abandoned this for a while but I'm back now. I have all these questions in my head and I feel like the longer I wait the more confusing everything becomes. You know how simple everything really is? Why do we always complicate things? It's almost like unless we complicate it all and make it one major mess up after another, our life will have no substance.

There's this boy, I call him Peter Pan because in my eyes he will always be the seven year old I once fell in love with. He's far away and he's not here now, and I miss him. I miss him because when I talk to him the world makes more sense. Or maybe it doesnt make much more sense but it's alright that it doesn't. Because it doesn't really matter that everything a blur, I'm not alone. I have him and he is the best person I've ever known. He screws up and makes mistakes and right is doing a lot of stupid things but he's so human. I am not in love with him, but I love him. And I know that that could change. I know that give me any sense of hope of there being more to this, I would sacrifice my whole life for him. And it kills me that no one other girl will ever see all that there is inside him, but to him that won't matter. Because he won't know the difference.

I managed to get myself into some stupid relationship once again. When I left last year I promised to not do this but here I am. I am dating this boy who I dont feel anything towards. And I promise myself each day to end it and then I don't because a part of me says 'who cares?' We're young, the future is ahead and right now it's too far away to matter. Why not live and have fun and be reckless and just experience? I guess because none of what I'm doing qualifies as such. I need to end it. I'm no longer the kind of girl who is afraid to be alone.

I am so good at it that I enjoy it. I want to get away to my room and let my itunes replace the whole universe around me. I want to be alone to watch movies about better places, and vanish into the limitless space before me, the one inside my computer screen, the one that grabs me by the arms and takes me with it.

And then a part of me is afraid that this will never change. That I'll never learn to settle down and that I'll push everyone away forever. What if letting someone in never stops being painful? But there's too many what if's. There's the what if of me not having met the right person yet, or the what if of me creating a problem out of a solution, or a dozen others that I can no longer care to specify.

What if life, what if it zooms by me and I never learn to feel? Literature is my God, art, and music, and words, they are my religion, they are what I believe. But in the absolute world of facts and figures and bodies made of real atoms, there I am a non-believer. Who really cares? Except I get days when I, I care! I care about being sucessful and independent and stern, and I wish for it and I fear failing. I wish for independence and freedom, the road to which I see through money, and for that I need to care and I need to fight and I need to integrate.

And so I do.