Shoot me at any time. Cheers

Everyone has his own definition of love. For some, it's sacrifice. For some, it's feeling alive and well, for others, it's the series of emotions that only one person can give. There are varieties of definitions of true love.. Every time I feel like I've found the one I realize I'm a fool and I need my head checked because I am an extremely hard person to like, hence love so my question is why the hell am I bothering?

I can't help feeling so fucking paranoid that this will end up like all of my past shitty relationships. We fight every day over small things and I once heard that it is healthy to argue but how can I piss him off so much on a daily basis? How can he say he loves a girl he hates as much as me? How can he swear he loves me when he doesn't trust me? How is it possible to want me when I'm so unusual?

God these fucking hormones are driving me crazy and my mind is in the wrong place at the wrong time but I want it to be known that i still want this to work. I still want to be in love, and as happy as i've been but not if I know the feeling isn't mutual. 

I feel stupid every time I tell him that I love him. The thing is with Americans they use those three words as greetings and lines to use in birthday cards. I adore him with every last bit of me and he sees it as just words coming out of my mouth and that hurts honestly. I have literally nothing to offer him so no shit it'll be over soon. I'm just ready for this weekend, maybe he'll dump me and I can return to where I was. Alone and unsure of what to do next but I have no choice it's definitely ending and all I have left to do is drink away any sorrow and fucking rant through a blog because its much easier to type it all out instead of talking to someone I know doesn't give a damn. It always ends up this way and my sisters probably saw it coming but didn't want to hurt me. Ahh, fuck me. 

Coast

I'm on my third cup of tea today. I've been trying to relax as well as keep busy while aching all over. i've spent all day with my family, and that means stressing out and being surrounded by absolute pessimism. I am at a point in life where I need to figure out what exactly I'm doing. If creativity is important, if writing and painting is but a mere hobby. I've been researching different careers, planning out the rest of my life and for the longest time I couldn't figure anything out. At least not until I met Jordan, my witty, most amazing  boyfriend. The first step would be going to Israel for 10 days after my graduation. College, of course, comes right after and that will be a total of 2 years before I get an international degree for nursing. It all sounds so smooth, no rough edges, no downfalls. I've always told myself I'd never go into the medical field, but I have to face reality; there are no fucking jobs where I can write for a living and not be underpaid and hating every waking moment. like journalism. I love writing, I do, so I'll publish a novel on the side, while working as a registered nurse in a hospital, and traveling, living all around the world. I want the love of my life to live with me, and travel side by side with me, but he has to want to see the world just as much. 

Soul searchin

The perks in life consist of sitting alone at a  coffee  shop  with nothing but music in your ears and a pen with a pad, a bottle of wine and a joint on the rooftops of Belgium, the festivals that never leave your mind at peace, blurred nights in rotterdam on the metro, and the bus, the feeling of being surrounded by the nature of good energy for once.. It consists of driving on the highway with my head on my lovers lap as the music plays through the car speakers, laying on his chest as he sings quietly, sitting across from him under the broad daylight streaming through the window of coffee shops, the dead ends and empty parking lots where we would make love in suspense, the bed where I would snore, loud or soft as he strokes my hair and let's me sleep, the slow dances to smooth jazz and the bottles of red and white wine that we would share, decorating the fake tree as tall as the ceiling, crossing railroad tracks attached to a bridge high above water, attempting to pay attention to a movie at the drive in while our tension rises in the heat of the moment and we make love in the back, Christmas morning at his mothers, sweetest day in my

Study room, his grandfather's introduction. Who is to say it's ever lasting? 

Generation self centered

I am ashamed of being apart of this generation. I hate the way people are so vicious to each other and how kids laugh at the disabled and elderly. I hate how I've grown up with the notion that I will one day categorize and judge people along with the rest of society. I hate how the system works. I hate how it's like we're programmed to do things and live a certain way. I hate how insecure most teenage girls are and how everything is a fucking competition. I fucking hate how my dad's coming home for good soon and all I care about is making sure my boyfriend and I last. I'm ashamed of myself.

Creases

Maybe it is the promising city lights, 

the aggressively blurred faces (a result from binge drinking and cannabis) and narrow, saturnine alleys. 

Maybe it is the magniloquent stilettos, tight dresses, and tenacious drunk walks under packed street lights,

Or maybe it is the lipstick stains on the mirror, the creases in the pavement, the admittance to nightclubs, where young women pretend to be ladies, and the combination of bass, jäger, and caramel spilled over the floor.

Oh, but it is the morning after, head throbbing, heels in hand, chasing after the metro.

That is keeps summer in rotterdam alive

Shitty

3:30am. I can't sleep, I haven't even tried to close my eyes, because i'm afraid there's no way I'll wake up when the alarm sounds. There is nothing, but a dark room filled with furniture and walls covered with paintings surrounding me. I can make a few small predictions. The alarm will go off in an hour, my sister  will flip on the lights and I'll be lying here, eyes red, pupils dilated, unable to move, because I wasted tonight masturbating, writing on paper for once, digging up lost memories over the past few years and drinking chai to cure any sadness. I wouldn't call this misery, but I won't deny that I'll feel miserable at 430am. 

Restless

Curled up under these sheets, I am cold and awake. I don't think of sleep. I want to close my eyes, but with every few seconds of shut-eye, they flutter open again. Maybe it is the yellow light, the one that keeps my eyes bloodshot and hiding under the blankets at 11pm. The one that's horrible for picture-taking, and worse for the lemon stained walls. Tonight will surely be another restless six  hours. Thoughts of you, racing though my mind. You're a whirlpool of endless memories while I'm a mere picture frame. I lay in this bed, shivering, remembering skin against bare skin. I remember drowning in white sheets and pillows with you, my mind blank, and eyes focused on yours. "Where have you been?"

Chai

The highlight to my days, this is relaxation at its finest. Homemade chai in blue satin sheets.  Almost better than coffee and a cherry blunt. 

Sunny side up

I have a lover, who has eyes as deep and enveloping as the dead sea, and a smile as sweet as the lemon and sugar stirred with my tea. We wake before the birds are up to make love to the morning, we raise our glasses to being young, and full of life. He holds me close when I'm feeling cold, and restless and oh so needy. I'm in utter lust, and I can't shake myself out of this dream

New girl.

I have spent so long contemplating the fixation of everything that has ever been broken in my days. Now I have realized that it's easier to leave the pieces where they were, because sometimes.. that is all someone as helpless as I, can do. What was once there, may not have even been as bright and as beautiful as I had imagined it