shit.

that awkward moment when you realize you're all alone, locked up with your feelings.

i'm angry. on the outside. on the inside. i'm just this angry, rebelling fire, raging.

what to hate, what to love?

i don't know whether i hate my culture, or my family, or my religion. or hate the culture created by society right now that i'm not allowed to fit into, or hate my luck.

i don't know, i just know i hate my situation. and that being optimistic about it all the time is hard as hell.

if i could live my life the way i wanted to at this moment of time it'd go like this:

i’d be living alone, a small house, decorated how i please, with a picket fence, a cat, and a garden. i’d wear whatever i wanted, vintage the most, and i’d have a classic car. my closet would be full of oxfords and florals. i’d have a small hangout room, decorated like the 50’s with records and the such.

my family would live 15 minutes away, and i’d visit them often.

i would come and go as i please, when i please. my friends would practically live at my house, or vice versa.

i’d take yearly trips to travel new countries.

i’d be going to college for Fine Arts and Media. and i’d end up getting a job in the city.

that would be the perfect life for me.

too bad life isn’t perfect