If you are going to try to interject an opinion, don’t say “you will find somebody better”. It’s not a case of being better. I could run into the most perfect, idealistic woman and she may not trigger a damn thing to me. Plus, its not a conscious effort to “hold myself back”  or “wait”, I’m not. Shit just happens. And I just happen to really really dig somebody on a different kind of level that has yet to be matched.

Wish you were in my life a little more.

I hate scars.

Acne was prominent in such a short period of my life and left a mark that annoys me to this day.

Unlike women I can’t use my own hair or concealer to mask anything that annoys me or hide any imperfection. It’s not even like I’m disfigured or something, but it’s definitely annoying at times to see all these babyfaces with smooth ass unmarked skin. I want to upload a pic here one day just to show it since I don’t know if my webcam can do it, I think my digi might be better.

It’s whatever. I don’t think it’s hurt my chances with women or anything (at least the ones I care about, still, you never know.)

Just bitching about something that bothers me. I guess I have a lot to be happy for so if that means I had to have bad skin, so be it. I’m just glad its been as normal as anybody elses for the last 6 years.

Over random encounters the last few days, I’ve come to realize that my intuition never fails. The desire to keep close what is most invaluable to oneself is the hardest thing to do, especially if it isn’t in your daily life. It’s almost too easy to trip up and lose sight of everything that makes you whole.

I don’t know what my future holds, but I know who I wouldn’t mind holding it. One day at a time, as its always been.

The sun did not fill my window as it does most mornings. Instead there was cloud and threat of snow. How I wish it could always be this way - that on mornings it could not come itself, the sun might send me you.

I’ve been trying.

You are my pursuit of happiness

Of course an accident would break my promise, ah fuck~

How can a blog filled with a spilled soul still feel so incomplete? I swear, man. Either I write stuff and it never paints the picture I want or something inside of me grows and surpasses what I’ve already felt.

I’ve never felt like this, ever. The funny thing is it doesn’t scare me, and it doesn’t make me different. I just know it’s there, and I neither know if I should act on it or just let it stay there.

I’m exhausted lately but tomorrow is my friday, and I have a busy weekend. Yaqeens birthday plans (thurs/fri) and busy Saturday too. And I have to get this passport shit asap. And I have want to talk to tertle. Yeah, thats an event because it usually lasts a while. It’s good to be busy, especially in this boring ass town. I desperately need to be transported to a big city so I can keep myself occupied. I’m an only child. I’m good at that whether there’s people around or not.