Oh God. I think romantics fucking piss me off. Maybe I'm jealous of them and their selves....but fuck. I mean, raising arms and shouting out, it's like Shut the Fuck up. Raving about moments and feeling complete 'rushes' without any reason to. Going out on a limb and taking all these chances. 'EPIC.' The whole way of being so intense and out of this world. It's almost enough to make me sick. It's almost enough to make me want to be that. Oh, I wish I was a romantic, I wish I could shout to the world and not care at all. I have this way about me that makes me so stiff and unsure. I've been trying to sit up straight more often. I've been trying to stop feeling shitty about my thick legs. I bought pants two sizes too big so maybe I could feel thinner. Let pants be baggy on my thighs and pretend they aren't large. Well, if it makes me feel better. This one person opened the door last night and stepped right in. I was leaning against the wall, staring at her, realizing her legs pissed me off. She was wearing a shirt that was long-ish and so she used it as a dress. She had heels on and I think every other female in the room felt slightly fatter than they did before she entered. I was still leaning agains the wall, but now with my arms crossed, and she came over and squished my face between her hands. That moment made me feel like a child, I fucking hate that. I wished I had a Blue Candy Cane sticking out of my mouth at the time. If so, then my teeth, lips, and tongue would be piercing BLUE and maybe it would have shocked her a bit. I haven't seen my 'best friend' in months. He's always busy picking his nose, and/or something else. Last night I was standing in the street, talking to my blonde boy, and realized I don't remember what 'best friend' looks like. Not full on. I remember his hair color and eye color and all that gay, as in lame, shit, but not what it's like to hug him, or his expressions. I fuckin' hate that. My not-real-girlfriend says i'm vulgar, but in a comforting tone. I embrace that. Lately...I've been thinking of my grandpa. He died at the end of September this year. (I know hearing about people's dead family members is boring..but this is what i'm thinking about.) The sadest part about death, personally, is that you never get to talk to that person again. They're lacking being there. They're whole presence is gone. All in all you will never get their feedback again. Never converse. That's how I look at death. The whole back and forth talking with that one certain person is over. I remember our last real moments together...I was sitting on a chair across from him and he didn't look very well. I'm sure we were talking about school and work and what I was going to be doing in the near future. I wish I hugged him more. I wish we talked more. I'm never going to get his opinion again. I'm never going to get his feedback. How sad is that? It's really sad to me. I upset people when I tell them my idea of what happens after death. I'm not athiest, I believe in God, I just don't fully believe, or have faith in everything or anything else. When we die we turn off and that's it. Why would there need to be anything else? Why would we deserve anything else? What is the point in anything else? I have many questions and I may not want or need any of them to be answered. And so that's why death is so scary. That's why death is so sad. That's why I'm forlorn about my grandpa passing and not ever being able to talk to him again. It's over, and that's sad. I don't want to get old, but I don't want to die young. So I'm never going to die, but I'm not going to live forever. I'm not going to grow old, but I'm not going to stay young. I'm going to exist. That's that. -Amanda