knowing that being orn on a specific date could be such a big deal.. don’t know
the point of me typing this is beause of a journal entry i’ve written after months of not writing at all.. and i realized how ugly my handwrting turned out to be…
I miss writing… i miss my dreams, ambitions and thoughts being written on a picee of paper or in an old notebook. I miss my poems, short stories… My ideas of heartbreaking reality…
When i wrote on my journal.. thinking of how i see the past eighteen years of my life.. because yes, now i am nineteen and i am not ashamed of getting older… [what i fear is, am i getting wiser?] .. i ended up writting parts of my life that sucks… my failures, my disppointments.. it that what my life is all about? Pain..
yes, i know my life sucks… it doesn’t live up to my own expectations… i lived to disappoint myself… to make me hunger for success.. to reach out for something that couldn’t be mine…
What have i done to deserve this…
The Eclectic Miss 