I've whined about this countless times in the past, but now it's really getting to me.
To think happy couples could at least hold off making out around a desolate, lonely, destined-to-be-single, un-boyfriendable (non)entity... Well I thought that, but I guess I was just suffering from a momentary lapse in reason.
It's not that I am bitter, because I am not. I'm happy for all these people around me, but sad for myself - if that makes any sense. Because in the end, I'm the one stuck with nobody to go kiss and hug.
I hate self-pity, so I'm going to stop now, but that really doesn't change the fact that I feel like crap.
*sigh*
Me
- BeautyInTheBreakdown *
- Boston, Massachussetts, United States
- I'm not limited to the blank canvas I was born as. My life is an eclectic melange of vivid colour. I float in a sea of multifarious musings, ranging from worlds of lime green skies and copper stars to winged objects and fairy dust. I am the flirtatiousness of cherry chap-stick, the depths of the cerulean ocean and the violet skies of Monet. I am the brooding dark green of dense foliage, the crimson tint in a blushing girl’s cheeks; the purple of bruised limbs. The complexity of my thoughts keeps evolving, I grow and shrink alternately. I cannot be contained or restrained. The French language is my drug and acne is my worst enemy. I laugh a little too much and am a romantic in the extreme sense. I’m likely to steal the stars from the sky, but my aims remain grounded in reality. I can’t be pigeonholed into a single stereotype, because all labels apply to me at different points in time.
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