How I feel:

prince and princess


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I am so wholly desperate for love. This experience is so terrifying for me. It has to be perfect and beyond. I build up so much in my head and I need so badly for the images in my head to be real.

I’ve had my heart broken so many times and my ideals of romance so highly implanted in my head…I don’t know if I could ever have a functional relationship.

I am so afraid to admit not only to you but to myself just how needy and clingy and desperate I really am. How badly I need love.

I am so afraid. Of being weak. I took a huge step too far away from my heart. I tried to pretend I was free. I confused strong with perfect.

If he loves me he loves me.

If I love myself I love him.

True freedom is shedding your armor.

Let yourself go.

The word love is FAR too diluted in my head to mean anything.

I really miss writing here. It just feels like time has collapsed in on itself.

I love college. I love Peter. I love where I am. I’m happy.

But the truth is…I’m more bored than I can ever remember.

I feel stifled.

What I really want to do is art. I want to live and breathe it. Inhabit it. And its really all I want. I want a fresh canvas in front of me and paint dried under my fingernails. I want to take photographs. I want rehearsal. I want stage lights. The Knight Club performance last night reminded me that it is oxygen to me. It’s intoxicating. It’s everything to me. I am an artist and I thrive on art. Not in any noble, pretentious or theoretical way. In an incredibly real, tangible way. I want to create. I need to feel alive.  

I need art.

Maybe that’s a blessing. To truly, wholly know not just what you want to do for the rest of your life…but what you need.

This is what I needed. A desert. To remind me why.

I make a vow…right here and now. I’m gonna spend my time this way.

I miss Hun. The warmth of the theatre. I miss the full body exhaustion and old caked on make up of tech week. I miss the comfort of best friends. I miss really honestly loving my friends. I miss high school. I miss Mr. Bush. I miss Belize with all of my soul. I miss Bogad dragging up a chair to comfort me as I bleed tears onto the couch. I miss writing. I miss listening to my music. I miss Hun theatre SO much.

Tomorrow. I would give anything to wake up and wear my production shirt to school over my oxford.

I miss Hun.