When you fall in love with somebody and then one day out of the blue they stop talking to you. Was it because of something you did? Was it because of something someone else said? I may never know.
What sucks even more is when you think about that person every day; wondering what they're doing, if they're okay, or just the mundane things like what they ate for the day or if they dreamed about anything last night.
Then you find out that that person is half-way across the world and could most likely care less about anything in regards to you.
But even though that person says that they feel that way about you, you still think about him/her every day and nothing has changed for you. You still love him/her and if he/she ever decided to care, you'd do anything in your power to be there for them no matter what.
"At the beginning there had been little true sensuality in it. Their first love-making had been simply an act of the will. But after the second time it was different. The smell of her hair, the taste of her mouth, the feeling of her skin seemed to have got inside him. or into the air all round him. She had become a physical necessity, something that he not only wanted but felt that he had a right to. When she said that she could not come, he had the feeling that she was cheating him. But just at this moment the crowd pressed them together and their hands accidentally met. She gave the tips of his fingers a quick squeeze that seemed to invite not desire but affection. It struck him that when one lived with a woman this particular disappointment must be a normal, recurring event; and a deep tenderness, such as he had not felt for her before, suddenly took hold of him. He wished that they were a married couple of ten years' standing. He wished that he were walking though the streets with her just as they were doing now, but openly without fear, talking of trivialities and buying odds and ends for the household. He wished above all that they had some place where they could be alone together without feeling the obligation to make love every time they met. "
Who said love couldn't be defined?
I thought to myself the second that I saw this in action in the real world, "damn, this isn't going to end well." How right I was.
On a lighter note, i'm starting to play competitive tennis again. I'm on a USTA League team now playing with and against some hardcore people, doing my best to get back in shape, and doing all that I can to be the best person I can be in every way possible.
Alright everybody, this entry goes out to all the ladies out there. I'm going to have to talk to you about a couple of things. I know it may seem like guys care a lot about looks, but we really don't.
When we say we care about looks, it really just means that we want you to be in shape, but not so much in shape that you can beat us up or pick up heavier things than us.
That DOES NOT MEAN, that we care about make-up. As a matter of fact, guys could give a shit less about make-up. You know why? BECAUSE IT TASTES NASTY. Here's a hypothetical situation for you:
Guy: Hey baby, I haven't seen you all day! I missed you so much. Girl: Oh I missed you too hunniebear! (even though I cheated on you today while you were at work) Guy: *BIG FAT KISS ON THE CHEEK* WTF, THAT SHIT TASTES NASTY Girl: But I wanted to look pretty for you... Guy: I dream about YOU, not your make-up.
See what I mean?!!? Now i'm going to give you some examples of youtube videos that I would either kill the person making them or kill myself by watching them.
^--Damn girl, you sure can talk up a storm can't you? You just wasted 10 minutes of my life. During the duration of this video, I imagined pouring a bathtub full of this China Glaze nail polish bullshit and drowning you in it and for some reason, I think that would be a suitable death for you and that you wouldn't mind either.
^--Goddamn. I really want to poke your eyes out with one of those brush things.
But seriously though, girls that wear a lot of make-up are wearing their self-esteem on their face. Why do you think they call it make-up? Because you're trying to make-up (compensate) for something. That's really sad once you think about it, but SO TRUE.
Really though ladies, if you spent all the time that you spent on your make-up working out and getting into shape, then you wouldn't have anything to make up for. You wouldn't want to draw attention away from the rest of your body to your face and you would probably feel a lot better about yourself as a whole.
Ladies, us guys don't give a shit about your make-up. Throw on some eye liner and we think you're fucking gorgeous and any guy that does give a damn about what you look like with make-up on isn't worth your time and is probably a homo.
Ladies, why do you put on a face?
^--Get yourself one of these. :D ^---;o ^---damn straight. ^---BEAR SITS?! ^--- D:
Today was a day like any other. A list of things to do. A half-desire to persue said list. An ever-calling laziness to do anything more than get out of bed. But today was different. I could've stayed in my town and gotten a lot of boxes checked off that list but decided that I would do something inefficient for a change and go out to visit my grandmother, since one checkbox involved getting a document from my Mother who also stays in the same residence.
As I made the hour long trek to the wholesome plot of land where 2 generations of my matriarchy lived, I noticed how many of the drivers seemed particularly erratic today. I also noticed how everyone was driving 85 mph instead of the standard 75 mph in the 65 mph speed limit zone.
As I pulled up to the deserted county road, I thought to myself about the stories that I had been told about each property and its supposed inhabitants and how wild and crazy each one of them was. I thought about how easy it would be to get into a head on collision and how the accident probably wouldn't be found out for at least an hour after it happened and how whoever was involved would probably not get to the hospital in time.
I thought about how when I was a kid my mother kidnapped me from the apartment where my father and I lived and how a woman I had never met before was supposed to be my mom and how I was supposed to have some kind of attachment to her because of some title that she's supposed to have. I remembered that when I got to her house, I met my grandmother for the first time.
She was a really nice lady, a lot nicer than the crazy woman who kidnapped me, and while I was sitting outside on the porch she came out and talked to me about the stars and showed me a bunch of different constellations. The crazy lady that kidnapped me, in no way, resembled a motherly figure, but the lady that came outside and offered me comfort and a warm, heartfelt conversation definitely was my Grandmother.
As I pulled up to the shotty house, I realized that everything seemed all too much neater than it usually was and that there was an eerie calm about the place. My mother was on the porch hanging linens out to dry when I got out of my car. I greeted her and told her the business that I came to discuss and asked where my Grandma was at and she told me to sit down. She said, in the sternest voice i'd ever heard her speak in, "Your grandmother died on December 13th."
And that's how I came to find out.
I know you're in a better place Grandma. I know that you did the most with what you could do with your life and wouldn't take anything back from what you did, because you always did what you thought was right. I'll see you soon.
