We'd blow the stars apart

I like to pretend to believe in crazy things sometimes. Like innocence. I like to pretend sometimes that I still have that boyhood innocence inside of me. When I believed I'd find a Princess someday, and that she'd love me like crazy, and I'd love her back, and it'd be like one of them story book romances. I actually used to believe that "true love" existed in this world.

Now it's a proposition that shoots fear through my spine: what if I was wrong? What if the "story book" true love actually does exist, and my negative maxims condemning it's possibilities are just words of a bitter fool?

Have I done too much to fuck myself up? Would anybody with whom that "love" can exist want a person like me?

I mean, I wouldn't even want me.

All I have to offer is passion and a promise to be scared of commitment.

Me and Antonia hung out last Saturday, and we made out. It was her being drunk, and being open with the fact that she's still not over me, and yet I don't understand. I don't get what the fuck it is about her that "loves" me. Maybe it's because I can't love her back, and I've been honest about it. Maybe it's my capriciousness that added flavor to her otherwise noisome lifestyle. (fucking vocabulary words tonight man) I always kept her on the edge of her seat.

And now, I'm taking a turn for the world of shallowness and fame. I signed my first contract today. Now, I have to do all the shallow things that any "real" celebrity should have: being in shape, getting extensions and shit, looking all sexy...

It one day may get me all the girls in the world, but down inside, I'll still just be a lonely pile of nothing.

Nobody can understand me. Shit, I can't even understand myself. How the hell can a woman handle this man, when this man can't even explain himself?

So, that being said, I like to escape to my dreaming mind. I like to pretend that me and the girl who may never exist are like 2 lost souls that nobody understands, and we're flying around the galaxy, out shining all them fucking stars. Creating fireworks and magic in a galaxy that conjures wonder from observers, we'd give them sights they never seen before. And we can swing under hammocks that we're hanging off the edges of stars, laughing away at the earth. "Nobody in this fucking world ever understood us, but we somehow understand each other. We finally make sense!" Shit, we were nobodies, we were nothings to the black and white talking heads living to die on this earth. And now, we're fucking invincible. In the horizon that escapes to eternity, littered with the sparkle and shine of the millions of stars, and hundreds of dreamers that came before us.

IF I COULD ONLY TOUCH HER IT WOULD EXIST! There's no doubt in my mind. Call me crazy, call me a liar, but love, feelings, emotions, that shit NEVER has to make sense. The only thing that RUINS love is our subjective mentalities. When we question the passion, and grow scared of its power. Because in love, we do crazy things we never expected. But when we think about it, we live less, and the love soars lower and lower. Sometimes just letting it happen is the way to go...

So here's to hope. Hoping that in 6 months from now I'll have some clarity, and that shit will be moving in the right direction. I've been singing the same tune for too long now.

Here's to faith: Faith that no matter what, God will provide. Faith that no matter what, things will work out the way they're supposed to. I've never questioned that theory!

I believe, without a doubt in my mind, that things will turn out the way they're meant to be. Call me fucking insane, but when it happens, you'll be astonished that I was right all along.