Every child's a bastard and every mother is a bitch.
Maybe the answer is to be selfish.
I'd hope not.
I'm sick of caring though; I don't want to care.
I think I'm preparing myself to give up.
I heard when you've let go of your hopes and of your dreams, you grow up.
That's all it means to be a woman; to have been defeated and pushed onwards.
I heard when you just to do what you must to live, you grow up.
That's all it means to be old; to get by.
I don't like that.
I don't like that we're all at an age we're so completely self involved. It's understandable, though, we've known nothing else so we must be selfish. We've never loved, I don't think.
I heard to love someone is the readiness to sacrifice, and to do things not necessarily productive to your own cause.
That's all it means to love; to give something vital and ask nothing in return.
Love seems lonely from far away.
If that's the only way you can prove it, I don't like that.
It's nothing like a story book.
I want to be like one of Whistler's paintings; without a plot.
What you see is all there is and all you need to know.
Everything is aesthetic.
And in no way do I hint to imply a weight on beauty and the like, ect.
That's not it.
Everything is aesthetic in the sense it can be only known on the surface, and that any attempt to divulge some sort of meaning is fruitless.
This is all hypocritical, isn't it?
"There is no reason to jump rope, I am just doing. There is no story behind how I got
here, I just am."
"No, I'm not waiting for anything. I'm just awkward. I'm where I wish to be, despite my ready appearance. "
"Oh, baby, I'm sorry if you're wanting something more, but there is none. And yes, I am in this uncomfortable position for no reason."
Life is hard.
Getting along is hard.
Money is hard.
Understanding anything is hard.
Art is hard.
Words are hard.
This is all I've been thinking about. That's it. I'm not going to ask where you're going.
The end.