To love...
To love is to always be there for each other.
To love is to accept each other and say: "You are who you are and I'm happy with it."
To love is to be each other's sunlight in the darkness.
To love is to reach out to one another when they need it.
To love is to be able to look past tiny flaws.
To love is to love when you can say "I love you" truthfully.
A wise man once said: "In order to be able to truly love others, you must first be able to love yourself."
I keep waiting for the day that I can look a girl in the eyes and say "I love you", but to do that, I must first love this miserable pile of **** known as Davy.

Dreams, they can be about anything. About our biggest fears, or our deepest desires.
Sometimes you dream about a girl so beautiful that she can't possibly exist outside the dream world.
Sometimes you dream about dying or about anything else.
Dreams, they last hours, you feel they only last a few minutes and most of the time you don't remember them.
Dreams, for that moment of surreality they can make you feel great, but then, when you wake up, you realise it's no longer a dream, I woke up in a nightmare.

Years have gone by. Years in which I've sometimes felt lonely and scared.
Years in which dark clouds sometimes gathered over my happiness.
Years in which the feeling of despair to find a girlfriend became stronger and stronger.
I know I'm only 18, I know I shouldn't worry about love.
That's why I've learnt this one very wise lesson: Looking for love is a hopeless quest and will only take you further away from love. You should let love find its way towards you and bury itself into your heart.

Here I am, trapped in an invisible cage, having stones of hate and anger thrown at me. It's been a year since the cage closed itself around me, and with every day that goes by, the cage gets smaller and this feeling becomes more suffocating.
But the urge to get out of this is getting bigger and bigger. I'm finally starting to return pressure.
Now it's only a matter of time before I break out of this cage and finally become that free boy that's been locked away all this time.

It's peanut butter crackers
and diet coke.
A time to reflect on choices,
life, failures, economic goals.
In the background,
without sound
there's a shadow,
never stitched
nor set by adhesive.
It's simply there
like I am
on this carpet,
Indian style
wondering if
someone can see this.
This body,
this soul,
this crippling person
who flicks bits of toasted crumbs
from her lap.
Staring into an enormous oblivion
wishing to swallow her whole
until nothing remains
but the shadow.
This is depression
at it's finest.

There's so much I wanna say to you, so many words that need to be spoken, but my mouth just can't produce those words. Whenever I try to talk to you, I become this newborn child that hasn't learnt how to speak yet. It's like fear is holding my mouth shut.
There's so much that has to be said, so I'm letting my pencil do the talking. My pencil isn't afraid to say the words. Its lips aren't held together by fear.
There's so many words that need to be spoken. If not by mouth, then by pencil.

Mozzarella on my Pizza just burnt my tongue
Moral of this event:
" The one you love the most is the one who hurts you the most."