This is real. This is me.

When you look in the mirror, do you like what you see? Is this who you want to be? You might have a pretty face, but a beautiful personality is something you have to work towards. What is keeping you going? What directs your moral compass? What is your tragic story? These are all questions I ask myself everyday. The sob story gets old fast. I know I have a good life, but I like to play the victim more than I care to admit. There's so much more to me than people care to figure out. Being ridiculously good-looking and having a good personality doesn't make anyone feel any less alone. I'm tired of this man vs. self fight. I just need to be surrounded by a utopian environment where I can be good all the time. I know my faults and I'm trying to change. I'm quiet and I won't let anybody in all the way. It's a self-preservation thing. I overanalyze everything. I let my emotions get the best of me. You were just somebody that held my hand during a sad movie. I couldn't even bring myself to admit I loved you even as a friend. I'm too competitive for my own good. I refuse to admit defeat. I think I'm always right. I rarely apologize and mean it. I need to come out on top because I'm tired of people who already have the world at their fingertips always winning every battle. This is something I believe in more so than anybody else. My heart's in the right place.

Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.

I've come to the conclusion that life is like a series of ecstasy trips. Forrest Gump's mother had no idea what she was talking about, because you can always know what you're going to get if you just read the paper that tells you what kind of chocolate is which. Life is like dropping E, not that I would now or anything. You have your happy moments and then for the next week or so, you feel the repercussions of the drug and you come crashing down. I don't even know why I'm writing this because this wasn't what I had in mind earlier today when I wanted to create something.

Every so often, I get a little bit cynical. It's not like I want to be like this, but I can't help it. I may sound like a cryptic dinosaur, but this just serves for my own reference. When did everything suddenly become about sex? It's strange how people whom you once adored now disgust you. I gave the green light because there was nothing else I could do. It was on you to do the right thing, and I guess morals don't matter to a lot of people. I can't blame him because it was my fault. Oh, well. She was just another ol' Sally. This is the last time. Don't look at me for an introduction. If I had known beforehand, I wouldn't have bothered. You know what though? I'm glad I did because I met some amazing people. I wonder if you are destined to meet certain people at a certain time and point in your life.

It doesn't matter how much wine a hooker sips, she's still a hooker. Haha. Um. You can certainly take advantage of a hooker. That's what the typical neanderthal would do. That's where I'm different. I'm nice. I'm like Richard Gere in Pretty Woman. I'd rather try to save the hooker with the heart of gold, except it's just a movie. Some people can't be saved. You can't take a hooker out to dinner and a movie.

And one by one they came
And one by one they left
I thought that I could fix her
If she would let me in

I'll look back at this in seven months and laugh.

I'm wondering where I am at this point in my life. I'm standing at a crossroads and I'm not quite sure what I should do. I don't want to trap myself in a box, but if I'd rather do that than stay in this hick town. I walked down the street today and I couldn't stand it. I never belonged here. Everything about this city is so wrong. Los Angeles is a place for lonely people. It's all lights and no heart. It's a place where no one can touch you, and that's supposed to be a good thing?

I could never stay in one place for too long. I get anxious and fearful of being stuck, grounded on the floor upon which I rest my feet. I get bored easily and my boredom reminds me to keep moving. Can't stop, won't stop. The rules don't apply to me. Whoever said I was playing the game at all? In love, why do we play a game where the odds of winning are stacked so high against us? Simple. The reward is greater than the risk. What's another broken heart compared to being alone on a Friday night? Let's do it again!