Is it really that tragic that I’ve lost all touch with my romantic self? Is that even a bad thing? Don’t the nice guys come last? I’m done trying to be a Disney princess. My life will never be in the romantic comedy section on Netflix. But why do people think that is sad? I’ve just had a changed of heart, and it isn’t all immoral. I have made up my mind, I am sick of living life with such serious guidelines.
I want to live within moments, within surreal feelings. I don’t want to be stressed out about a boy, or cry over a relationship. I have enough to be anxious about in my life, if I can eliminate just one cause I know I’ll be a little better. I don’t crave the intimacy, the mush, the cheesy posts and pictures. Don’t I think high enough of myself to not want anyone in my life who is content with hurting me? I shouldn’t get attached to affairs that are fleeting.
When you’ve been fucked over as much as I have, there comes a point where you just get fed up with it. What’s the point?
I used to be such a sappy sucker for the adrenaline of love. I’ve had a cold change of heart. But is it heartless or is it protection?
I want to live in moments of now.