College...amazing.
Life...eh?
Friends...worry.
Happiness...coming?

Life would be a lot easier if we forgot to talk about the bullshit.

And the flower drew back her petals,
grew larger thorns
and hung her head ready to die.
"It's no one's fault." She whispered as the fairies and unicorns puzzled over her.
"It's meant to be. It will pass."
She whispered looking at one fairy in particular.
And then she faded into the shadow of
her former self
And died.

Do we spend have our lives planning our futures...
And the other half trying to relive our childhood?

And why does it actually matter?
So what about most things.
I'm breathing...Even though every breath hurts really bad.
I can sing with the worst voice ever and still think it's beautiful.
Does that make me beautiful?