I've been trying to write this letter for awhile now, the kind you said you've never recieved, the kind I've been working on my whole life. And I remember being thirteen years old, sitting in my room at night, listening to the same song over and over..I thought that if I could write something beautiful, something honest, maybe I could make someone love me. I've taken alot for granted, I never tried to hard, I've always avoided resposibility, I came here cause I was running away, I wanted to be alone; instead I met you, and you werent taking anything for granted. I hope you get all the moments you deserve, I hope you go back to new york and sit in the met, in the room with the paintings of the Hudson River...and I hope when you do, you take Lucy with you, cause I know she would love it. I'm sorry if I made your life more complicated, Im sorry for alot of things, but most of all, Im sorry I never got the chance to tell you, no matter what happens next, I'll never be anything but grateful for every moment I spent with you. And even tho I keep fumbling for the right words, all I really wanted to say was 'Thank you' -Carter Webb, In the land of women These day's i'm just not quite sure what to write in here. Everything's been really insane lately, my life is like a constant roller coaster. Good days followed by bad days, followed by worse ones. Watching movies like In the land of women, or The Holiday, don't make things any better, but instead, it just reminds me that life can't be the fairy tale I wish it was. No matter what happens, love hurts. Friendship hurts. And that realization is kind of getting annoying.
Things like this, days like this, make me think we're all on a subtle self distruct mode.
Are we all secretly sado-masichistic, thriving on the pain we inflict, and feel ourselves?
