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This is the picture I used for my about me. This happens way too much. It reminds me of cashiers when you walk up the counter and they say “Hi, How are you?”and you know that no one has ever answered “Shitty, thankyou.” because the cashiers don’t care and they don’t want a life story, they want money to avoid trouble with their boss. But even my friends do it. “Hey alex, how’s life?” “Terrible.” “That sucks. Oh! I saw andrew at the mall!” It’d be nice if people only asked questions they wanted answers to.

Kind of like in that book, The Giver, (are book titles supposed to be in italic, or underlined?…) where everyone has to say only what they mean. So if you say you want to die, you better mean it. We read that book in eighth grade language arts and I really did not like the ending.. moving on. I don’t think people want to hear answers unless theyre good. Only the people born to be listeners, people like me, want to hear the answer, and I realize now that because I’m always listening to everyone else, no one lets me come to them. No one listens to me really. Or if they do, they’re not good at it. There are talkers and there are listeners and I have never met an in between. My goal lately has mainly been to find a person that can give advice, listen to me, and tell me their stuff. That’s kind of the definition of a Best Friend… And I have many of those. But their listening skills are mildly lacking, sorry darlings, on the off chance that you’re reading this. I think I’ve come close though…

On the back of this post card, it said ‘then I would save you.’ But I think this makes a lot of sense. Sometimes everyone is so desperate for some type of sign on affection, that we don’t care if it’s in such a desperate measure. I think that when we love someone, and the person doesn’t love us back, we don’t care what it takes to make them show that they do, as long as they do it and we can help. I know that earlier, this guy I really do love, was going to start cutting because some girl he was dating but doesn’t love was cutting again. And it made me upset because I used to cut and all he did was say don’t do it again, and part of me kind of wished that he’d start because of me, and not her. This was an hour or so before I saw this postcard.

July Twentyseventh 2008, Sunday With Nothing To Do. 

I wish I could choose a different font on here…

Starting tomorrow. Post Secret Sundays.