I have always painted as a child. I painted in hopes of showing people, how I see the world, I painted in hopes of people seeing the world my way. And when i showed them my paintings the responses were always, you are so talented or that is so beautiful, but never why the tree in my painting sits alone, or why are the flowers only three colours. And then I realised, people only see things when they are directly pointed out to them they don’t seem to understand different forms of expression other than words, and I never knew how to express myself with words. And so between the different ways of looking at the world and our own self expression, i fear we will all stay misunderstood or never understand by one another. 

Do you ever just think about your memories and cry because I do

And sometimes I imagine going to the place of my past thinking that would heal me but it probably won’t

I think our lives seem like movies to us when we keep living and not just observing

But the true reality hits us once we remember those moments and they no longer seem like a moment just like something that was your once but it can never be yours again

I have always wanted a dog

A creature that will love me unconditionally just as much as i love them

For the first and last time I want to cry in my mother’s arms and let all my pain out

But I don’t want her to know I have cried in her arms I don’t want her to remember

I want a hug from my mom...

Are you there mommy...

My memories are always so bittersweet.

Some people have a happy beginning, some have a happy end, others sad beginnings and sad ends.

I always knew, I would have a sad ending, not sad exactly but... incomplete

Life is a trap, I will never be able to escape

I’m always thinking about the things that could have been

I wanted to do, and be everything in this world. I wanted countless experiences and millions emotions, but in the process of thinking how and when I’m going to do all of those things. I got lost in my own head, and I ended up doing nothing at all, but rotting slowly in my own pile of feelings and grief, over the things I will never get to be and do. 

hi i think i like you a little bit i meant your thoughts your words i relate totally :3

Thank you I appreciate it

And suddenly it is the begging of spring, you are laying in your bed, in the middle of the night,  looking at the fool moon and nothing feels real. It feels like this morning was a hundred years ago, you start to remember everything and feel everything you have ever felt. The weight of time and space stars to feel heavy on your shoulders. And the world is not real and you aren’t real, soon enough you will fall asleep and forget about this moment for a while until next time. 

Where do my memories go if I forget about them. Does it mean I can’t have them anymore. Do they belong to somebody else now. Does it mean they were never real. 

I hope they go up in the clouds watching over me

Being the introverted hopeless romantic with a high sex drive is a curse

And I keep wanting things that are out of my control

I’m just terrified of wishing for something i can never have

But I always do just that somehow

It will happen when you least expect it

It will happen in spring at midnight 

It will happen in the middle of a beautiful sunny day

The memories of your past will hit you like a wave

And you wouldn’t know what to do 

You would feel joy at first, and then you would start hysterically crying like it’s the end of the world 

And you would remember

You would remember, and you wouldn’t know what to do with that remembrance 

You have been trying to forget for so long, and now you can’t stop remembering