What happened to the girls who always took pictures on the mailbox? And the two fifteen year olds who fell in love? I think we've lost ourselves, my loves. I guess I shouldn't speak as a whole. The melancholy is taking me over today. Not really a nostalgic melancholy like it sounds like, but just a subtle sadness about what life is now over what it was then. Only one person knows every single thing about me and I walk all over that person. I think I walk all over everybody without ever realizing it because I'm just selfish and I know it.
I have this idea that if I only depend on myself for the rest of my life, it'll be so much easier. But I want to depend on someone. I don't want to be lonely all the time. I want people to depend on me and they can't do that if I don't depend on them. Living that life would be so lonely.
Why isn't it socially acceptable for people to run away from their problems? If I could, I would run away right this second, but too many things hold me here. I'm bad at handling life sometimes. Things get overwhelming and I boil over and explode and I end up doing and saying things I regret. But so far today, I don't really regret anything and I'm not thinking twice about my decisions. Well, I am, but not changing my mind about them the more I think about them.
I want to go to Montmartre and sit on the steps of Sacre Couer and just sit and look and really feel where I am and try to be happy and escape. I need camp, where nothing matters and nothing else exists when you're there. When I'm there, I even forget some people exist. It's weird, but it's what I love about it, and I need it.
