Season.

I think I wold die happy if someone wrote me a song like "I'm Yours Tonight" by The Academy Is... (The Academy Is... what? GAY?! You know you were thinking it.) It's just such a genuine song. It's not a cliche, cheesy love song. It talks about his insecurities and faults, the things he fears and his hopes that she'll never leave. Yet it also delves into the security of being in a stable relationship, knowing she'll stay. I believe love in completely imperfect, and I would define love as being able to think the world of someone in the face of their every imperfection. This is altogether too rare these days. Few people would pull the stars down from the heavens for an empty sky. Good intentions can be enough, if you let them.

I'm in a rare form. You will catch this mood from me for one month only. For one month I stop running while I run a new frame of mind. Octobers are the best times of my life. T minus one day and some odd hours, and I am already in my favorite place. Heavy jackets cover heavy loads and baggy eyes shadow a color of stress. I just want to spin in the street, barefoot, in a yellow dress. I don't want to be the picture of dragging day weeks and headache weekends. I'm weightless, and I want everyone to know. I wore my jackets, my long sleeves and warm shoes, with a smile on my face. The cool flush in your cheeks is my favorite color of beautiful. It looks good on everyone. Cool air can warm your face, if you let it.

When the wind dies down, this is all I need. Today consisted of dreams of picking apples, new fish and a giggle at the name, and an excuse to make art. You know you're in love with the future when doing homework three weeks in advanced excites you. I've never been one to worry about my credentials. Leaders are born. Success is made. Who said it had to stress you out, anyway? Try finding joy in the mundane. Today, a gust of wind caught my back and the tree to my left, and within seconds, leaves were flying overhead like countless colorful birds. Still more seconds later and they settled to the ground. Subtle can speak volumes, if you let it.

If nothing else, let yourself get swept away every now and then. Makes the most of life; make the most of time, because no one is going to do it for you.

Someone will prove to be worth your time, if you let them.

Make War.

I'm in a fantastically devious, Fall Out Boy sort of mood tonight. That might be due to the fact that I just listened to Infinity On High, From Under The Cork Tree, and Folie A Deux in their entirely tonight. Factor in my mindset, and you have a winning combination.

I've been thinking about love a lot lately. And when I say a lot, I mean that it dominates my thoughts when I'm not being told what to think. I keep thinking about the people I love now, the people I've loved in the past that aren't around anymore, and how it has defined me. I think about how it's defining the people around me. You'll find me to be generally cynical when it comes to love.

I know, it seems out of place when you look at my sunshine and rainbows way of living life. But really, that's kind of the reason. I like being happy. I like enjoying life, and I like living life. I'm happy every single day to be alive. Even days that I spend in bed feeling like crap, or days I make bad decisions or days when I'm stressed out, because at least there's breath in my body to be feeling all those things.

We don't give feeling enough credit. It's something we tell men not to acknowledge and allow women to misconstrue. But it's something that is a part of me every single second. Everything I write comes from feeling, all 100something entries in here, not to mention the even more intense personal pieces. I overthink and analyze, and I let myself because I love to feel. To me, hell would be the lack of feeling anything.

Contrary to popular belief, feeling nothing but negative emotion isn't a complete hell. Is it awful to say that I don't mind because I look back at times like that and I realize I made them into something beautiful? They say that the best art comes from pain, and I wouldn't be inclined to disagree. I never write when I'm nothing but smiles. The line "I could write it better than you ever felt it" comes to mind. I do not accept the phrase that tells us to make love, not war. Instead I accept make art, not war.

Get raw. Get mad. Write it down. I can name no other personal effort that has kept me as healthy and sane as the screen in front of me. I find myself completely enveloped in conversation when it's around. If I could have one wish, it wouldn't be to read people's minds, it wold be instead to understand why people think the way they do. I'm constantly fascinated with trying to figure it out.

I wish I knew why love at eighteen was worth it to other people. I know it's fun to have someone to kiss and cuddle with, but I also don't find myself hurting for someone to pin my happiness to. I wear my happiness, and it's something I don't like to share when it comes to the controls. I love making people smile and cheering people up, and with someone to be wholly dependent on, I couldn't be as free to do that. It's a point of pride I wouldn't sacrifice for even the finest of lookers. I do not readily argue. I'm just here to have fun. Why would you want anything less?

I think there's few things more beautiful than two people truly in love. I can separate (The spelling of that word annoys me. It should be sepErate. Just saying.Anyway, sidenote!) this belief with the fact that I'm not cut out to be starry-eyed just yet. It's that classic make two lists, pros on one side, cons on the other method. It always has seem foolproof. Case in point: My cons outweigh my pros. You may be different, and I think that's fantastic. This really is a love song in my own way.

Dear you,
Love made you lose your guts. Stupid.

Dear you,
I think you're interesting, oddly enough. Stick around.

Dear you,
I can't decide if I think you're really cool or just a kid that whines a lot.

Dear you,
Don't doubt your beautiful little self.

Dear you,
You're a hypocrite and I've never really liked you that much.

Dear you,
I had no idea you were more than a party animal. It's been a pleasure getting to know who you really are.

Dear you,
You're heading in the right direction. I'm glad we see eye to eye.

Dear you,
I think you're going nowhere in life. Get it together, loser.

Dear you,
I'm worried. Your mind is so cryptic to me. Come back.

Dear you,
I think I finally hit the age where I can say you're my best friend and it's okay. I love you!

Dear you,
You're my family. Thank you for really helping me find my way here.

I love you all in one way or another.

Beginning to End.

I tried to sum up the way I'm feeling into words, and I can't.
I can't make this into something beautiful.
Beautiful drowned in glass bottles.
Bottles you pressed to your lips.
Lips that scarcely move in wonder anymore.
Anymore nonsense would be too much to ask.
Ask, but expect nothing.
Nothing is worth giving into.
Into the airwaves.
Airwaves contain my feeling.
Feeling lost carefree in its vocabulary.
Vocabulary is redefined when the words lose meaning.
Meaning doesn't matter anyway.
Anyway to get to you.
You always were my rock.
Rock until day breaks and never a second longer.
Longer than I should let this feeling stay.
Stay around, for God's sake; I need your help.
Help: something you forgot how to ask for.
For days on end, I'd give for no return.
Return to me the person I used to know.
Know that everything could be okay.
Okay, if you let it.
It could set you free.
Free feels fine when you're home.
Home is found.
Found somewhere you least expect.
Expect more of your life.
Life is meant to be spent alive.
Alive.

Sometimes I wonder if you really are.

Unending.

My declaration: I'm not dating until I am at least 30. The only exception to this rule being the event that someone comes along and has what it takes to prove me wrong. I am not looking for this person. You're best off not even trying. I'm happier on my own. I have gotten seriously swell at running away from happiness in any other body.

You're just a letdown; another one of my mistakes. I did love you, anyway, I always did and I always will. But not in the way you think, you and your constant overconfidence. You might say I don't know what I'm missing, but all I miss is you then. You now sucks, a lot. But I'm sure you're miles past reading this and further past caring even if you did. You're a failure.

Dear substance abuse,
You can go fuck yourself. I hate you for stealing amazing people and character traits in the people I love. You're not that cool even though everyone thinks you are. It's not finding religion that makes you mean, it's the things you take. Things no one can get back. You're a cleptomaniac, and you steal more than just cheap earrings and make-up and clothes. You take things that are supposed to matter. You take people's ability to be honest; you take all likelihood of people being able to actually keep plans. You make forgetting okay, and bad decisions funny. You make people stick in high school mentalities, and summer spills into fall. If I could sell my car or keep it far away, I would. I'd take any excuse not to leave until the day thankfulness translates to gluttony. I hate you being accessible. I hate you tempting people away from where they should be. And I hate you for making people forget who they really are. You're a killer. I will never be yours. Hunt someone worth your spell, because everyone close to me is too good for you.

There are days where I wish I could go back to the day I began thinking poison was okay. I lost my grip for awhile, but I found it. It's not so much that it changes only the habits of those that overenjoy it, it changes personality traits. People lose their regard for things that are important and their ability to not break dates. People and things become important that shouldn't be. Kids under 21 start to idolize the losers that supply their needs. The strength of the people you love's ambition gets weaker. Home stretches. Stomachs turn. Eyes turn into sprinklers. It's a heartbreaking transition. I am effected, but I'm done letting it. It's easy to let yourself fall to the typical side effects. Start fighting. I'll help you, anyone who needs it. Better yet, we'll help each other.

I spent $50 this weekend on essentially shoes and movies and food. Before that I hadn't spent much money here. I like that about this place. I still feel the push to get a job, but now I see that it's okay to kick back, and that I'm not going broke anytime soon.

I really do just want what's best for you. We're two different people with one uncommon bond closer than any I've ever know. I understand we're in different places; let me into yours and I'll help you find home, okay? I want you to be happy everywhere you are. I want you to know what it's like to be in love with time and place, and you can show me that it's worth being in love with person. I think you can really help me, and I'm stuck. I know I can help you too. Your three rules are very true and I intend to abide by them. I know you do too. I love you, for everything you do, for the success you have and mistakes you make. You've taught me more about the world, people, and myself than anyone else, and I'm not done learning. We can tear this place up. Why not start now? You'll always be the stars over treetops to me, my hero.

This is the part where you find out who you are. These are your friends, those who've been there from the start. So to hell with your bad news, dirt on your new shoes. We do more than get by. We run faster than life ever will; this way it can never beat us.

Here.

Seems like everyone has bigger and better things to do these days and I'm sitting on the sidewalk while the colors blur on the streets. I could count the number of ties I willingly hold onto on one hand. Is it so wrong to want so little from the places I came from? Everyone has someone out there, but I can't say that I do. I have a friend back home that I miss more than life and wish like hell would come here next year like all the crazy plan we've talked about. I miss you, and I'm sorry I can't be there in presence just yet. You're one of the few things I come home for.

I miss my mom and dad, but I call them everyday and it makes them more happy to know that I'm enjoying myself than it does to know that I miss them. I'm making a new life for myself because they taught me to. And I couldn't have asked for better guidance. I'm in love with my surroundings because all of my life I've been told it's okay to accept change. I adapt quickly. Move around a couple times and you learn that going someplace new isn't such a bad thing. I'm resilient.

At times I feel heartless because there are few things I miss. My closest friends have love to miss and time to devote to them, and in a way, I'm jealous because they have something so deep worth missing. I know I'm not cut out for that. Maybe it's selfishness that has me wanting only what's in front of me. When given the option of here and there, wouldn't you rather have what's more easily obtained? All this written to the tune of smacking lips and hearts beating louder than their ears can handle. Mine beats off pattern.

I don't know if I'm meant to be alone so much as I'm meant to be independent. I'm okay on my own. I don't want to be in love, and my constant talking about the lookers is a clear indication. Girls just want to have fun. Girls do what they want; boys do what they can. I do absolutely everything and spend hours doing nothing but watch my favorite show. I love living life like this. I love being able to go do something whenever I want, and I like being able to give blood and lay in bed for three hours. I would be perfectly fine if I could never go anywhere else but walking distance. An occasional visitor is all it would take to define personal perfection. Even in a crowded, booze-soaked stadium, in shuttle buses and cop lined villages, this place has the spunk to keep me captivated.

I'm home, and I'm eager to get even more settled in.