im like 60% sadness and 40% bad jokes
Andrea . 19 . California Born . Texas Raised . Benevolent . Empathetic . Athletic . Determined . Loyal . Complex and Complicated . Corny . Sarcastic . Humble and Modest . Dedicated . Quick-witted . Perceptive . Open-minded .
Like wtf is wrong with me? Why was I so out of it today? /:
She wanted to know everything. She wanted to know why cities skies had only a few stars. And sometimes they had no stars at all. She loved going to the countryside. Even though she was never a small town kind of a girl. “Why would the stars run away to a place where they are least noticed?” She would ask herself as she gazed into the sky. She wanted to know why books were in libraries instead of being in the streets for everyone to pick them up. She wanted to know why people lied to the ones they love. She was strange. And whenever the pain got too great, she would go to the nearest bookshop, go to the corners no one goes to, and pick a random book and underline how she feels. She would also write letters and bury them between the pages. She wanted everyone to know how she felt, because she couldn’t share it. She wanted to exist and matter. And it made me sad, because she existed and mattered to me. But I guess I wasn’t enough. She wanted the people who were like her to know that they were not alone. She hoped for her letters to be read by people who were as sad as she was. Everything about her made me cry, in both the good way and the bad one. I wanted to hold her and tell her that she was everything. I wanted to tell her that she mattered and existed, but no matter how much I wanted her to listen, she would never do. Her sadness was visible. Her desperation was obvious, but she did not care, because she was sad, and feeling less pain was all what mattered to her.