…I picked the petals of the dandelions and guess what it landed on? 

“You love me not”

Tonight, just like that night a few weeks back… tonight… i hate the image of the person standing in the mirror? I simply don’t understand and it’s frustrating to no end. I still love you but I know for a fact that you don’t tonight. Would this post be a hypocritical statement towards my personality? Maybe this post, to some, would think I’m merely typing this for your pity or your attention? Maybe for a midnight read? Entertainment perhaps? No, I write like I have always written. If I had chosen to use Emma and a small black notebook then I can assure you, you wouldn’t be reading this. I’m not trying to prove anything to any of you but if you read this, then whatever you read stays in here. The words do not fly from the page into your mouths… please. My thoughts must remain wherever they have been imprinted upon, nowhere else so please respect my privacy. Just for future reference… because tonight I don’t think I can even stand the text this person is typing… What “he” is writing is just making me sick now. I’m going to stop before I ruin my mood for the rest of the week. 

There are quite a lot of subjects to touch upon tonight; sitting here in front of a keyboard with a pot of tea right next to me. As I struggle to type these words out I notice the scars on my knuckles, the scars from what seems like a completely different time ago. A night just like this one with a few simple words to have the blood dripping down the shafts of my fingers but today just one word is all it took to have my soul smiling from ear to ear. Just one simple word…

“Yes.”

My infatuation with her seems to grow as summer nears and I’ll have the means to finally get myself a camera. So many things to do, so many paths to choose, so many memories to make… Just one summer and then one more year of sitting in a class room; day in and day out learning things to become happy? Fresh out of school and out of a job. They teach you to socialize, to thrive in our so called lives, when the one thing they leave out is to show you how to be alive? Or is it the path they challenge you to embark upon? Then wouldn’t all graduates have these so called lives? She once recited to a small group of people and as they listened (probably half-asleep) they would never know how rare the occurrence of that hearing would be, all except me. How I would go back and try to scrape the words of that poem out of my skull. How I scold myself for not having paid attention more. And the one thing that I can relate to from what you said to what I’m writing now? Again… One word… Drones…

I don’t want that American Dream. It makes me sick; sitting there in my English class as I contemplate philosophy and the capacity for hatred in the human heart as well gullibility for such petty things. Don’t they want more than that? I’m sick of talking of such things when there are much more meaningful things to speak of, to develop in those little noggins of ours. Broken hymns tired of the same lessons but not knowing how to appropriately express themselves through other means so they resort to ignorance… 

Listen to me rant… Finally the first hour of the day has come and I can retire to bed… For now, I bid you adieu reader.

You might wonder why I post things if they are encrypted? What’s the point right? For those of you with determination and cunning I’m sure you’ll figure it out someday :) 

Os vaariwlvgqry qhpr itgkh, xrmc sg ujnsr gpigume xgmgymfy pctub. V ichabb frgyc ompgwmr smnx q’yegixku gr. Gprxg uer bju vbvaof zjug V iz ghlnvl jovb urz… Btg vrvvt ngl frfhgncgl. Eue? Kh pbucgtcfbv gu c avet, V go… mrkcnrns vanrxkie. Gpr lggnym vscar va zaeb zbzr gvnenkgoxy guia zjug bn n scfr’f qa sa jreabtcf bcqaoqh nal pupmvqmeopa gum sgen guig op nuva patlrab pannhem zgps guqaq vbr fizk yul ompgwmr jm nxg uyy qalnorakrj ds fbur apxretlopa phtgatuy cmeywufvwa. Nqq pnv V iqgcnzr zq u jbunt? Uypbvqra… qunb vl ubr va gu royy i soxy uhvqxgx qngf uh mhzurx? Ubr pwayvuagtl xggvalf sg (ie harj vi) guig yjy jna auv u ybvt jkmgnvpk tyynbvupmuvx gery bs xrxuia amvzjye jif yjy gum gery gb… arzvfr qwjt. Kh fuwez, iyg ziexkyq (ompgwmr vv ekcfvgg V xguyyg qup’n jnvg zq vr jigijcat ul qkxf bz nta evqa crcs va buk OwQbvnrf’m Cyilvnupr ig yqgr eqqoeoybcf nqoe bn gng xnl). Eugv cs fpr ccm fhzr cknu nvbzjye zia (ut qbzia op nuva zgvnre) eugv mur eny pyirz faty jvbu sg? Uz V vbz fivao fuoyguqam tctub? Bx ycyy qg gnf rnar uxye jqgn vczr? Q’ik pyirz yuxyq nvlupy yvsr zjcf omsuty… V’im akxye fbnegx hc ig yqgr eqqoeoybcf nqoe bn gng xnl bb zjcax iouwn gumz… zq nuvvx gdihg ul lwnhem jovb gumz gpx ube ficlrq Q ns cm gb pbc kn fuiyr cfy gcet qog. V’dr tgpre nnrnya fw ugtx sbz fuoybam ntf cg rapgryf zm ny vi jug fng nuvvxy vbng Q qu pig ywik jye nb fuoy zburtvm? V fpnrn jeng sut myrmc op nur kbskht uwhx… C wbaoegvoynbvupm vf qa utxre qs eqo nem ekcxvao gnkm. Cnag sa qnyt bl ruenvboc uaq qaygwheqge aih sqaj vbrfm zgncpvwhy vbbhouzu mb qw luw mgbx auy vrswek fcivvt jgycrz vtvi zl uvtf? Ie qw luw wbabvtwy? V oqq eqo nqqra.