Wash away the thoughts inside
That keep my mind away from you
No more love and no more pride
And thoughts are all I have to do
Right now I'm listening to Morning Bell/Amnesiac by Radiohead. There's this... Wooden drum, or maybe a bass guitar. In the far background. It sounds like heartbeat. If my heart would beat that ordinary, I would be amazed.
I carry a lot of shit. A lot of baggage. For some reason. There is a reason, of course. But it's a curse, so don't tell anyone. I still try to cry sometimes. It isn't very efficient, I can trust you. Maybe I'm only able to cry when there's somebody around? Actually, I can fake to cry. But I can't gather my mind and lose a tear or two.
I. Am. Happy. Did you know that? Fuck, now it seems as if I believe everybody reading this is stupidity himself. I'm sorry. But I am happy. At least when the world is somewhat good. I think I like being happy. It's somewhat comforting. But who cares for me now? I can't seek attention by being happy all the time. Or, I can get attention, but... You don't get that feeling when others feel sorry for you. I'm not even sure if I like that feeling. But I kinda miss being depressed. Bad sign?
Oh, what crap I've been writing down for the past two years. Scenario after scenario... Which none of then ever happened. Maybe for the good, though.
I'm messaging with this girl. She's really cool! And we actually have things in common (you didn't see that one coming, did you?). It feels good to have that. I think I'll call it friendship. You don't have to physically meet a person to be friends, right? No. She's a good person.
Every day is a day, no matter what. No matter what. I want to write a movie script.