there was a time,

When I believed in myself. When I looked at myself in the mirror and could smile, and looked forward to the day ahead. I grabbed my bag, my book, and my pen, and I was off. I pretended as if I had issues - maybe pretended isn't the right word. They just weren't as crucial as I thought they were. With more experience, and more hurt, comes more understanding.

I don't have much to complain about. Sometimes I sit here and tell myself I need to suck it up. I need to just get over things and move on. So I'm heartbroken. So are millions of other people. No one is trying to make themselves better, and sitting and indulging in my pain just makes it worse. And yet, it's all I tend to do.

I sit here and stare at my camera. If I just take a walk outside, point it towards something that Mother Nature made beautiful, and pressed the button, I could forever keep something pretty with me. Something to remind me that this life was not meant to be colorless and dreary, but happy and filled with laughter. It's often very hard to look past the darkness in this world to see the pigments, but it's worth it.

I'm so young. And so self-involved. And so focused on making me good enough for myself. Some people would say that the right route. Please yourself before you please others. But my quest for self acceptance has gone no where. It was close to almost being fulfilled, but then that fell through and I'm right where I started. Sitting at this desk, venting to something that can't answer me. My heart tight in my chest. Missing someone.

It's all the same.