One day, I lie in bed, hating myself for not doing anything. The next day, I sit here, trying to figure out myself and regain focus.
It’s not an easy thing to be a twenty two year-old with a heart of a fourteen year-old girl. I usually do not know what I want to do with my life (but who does, anyway?). But the only times that I am perfectly at peace is either when I’m at a beach, or when I’m reading.
The waves and the wind are so graceful, yet so strong, that even my mind acknowledges their authority and lies low for a while.
Books, on the other hand, are too much of a seduction that my brain can’t resist but follow their leads.
Ladies and gentlemen, those are the only things that bring moments of rest in my fucked up universe. The rest, I don’t even have the strength to write about.