And then there's us single people.
Pining in the distance for our crushes. Writing about having fun being on our own. When deep inside we just want to be with someone.
I hide everything with a smile. A joke. A twisted fictional story. But dammit there are days I just want to approach someone and convince them I'm the one. Somehow, I picture violence involved. Kidding of course.
Last week someone mentioned that the best way to find the person meant for you is to completely stop looking for love.
How? When everything you see. Everything you hear. The things you read. They tell us we should be with someone.
I showed my blog to a friend the other day.
After reading it, he asked me my age. He wanted to confirm that this blog was written by someone who's twenty eight and not someone who just hit puberty.
He hammered on me the things that made this blog less me and more... what's the term... immature.
- I rant and rave about celebrities that I will never see again.
- Instead of living life... I'm ranting about not living it... and write it on my blog.
- My fiction's okay, but they're all open ended.
- It's a bit shallow.
- But when I write about the more me posts, I kinda not suck.
- And he told me I closed the wrong blog.
A few hours ago, I was at the listening end of a How I Met Your Mother Style recollection of a new found friend's love life.
I realized I am 28.
I write like I'm 18.
I think like I'm 21.
But I look so much older.
If I want to live a life that for me is ideal, I have to change things.
I actually opened a third blog where I thought I should post about things I realized about me. About my life. Why there are some things I wanted that I still haven't gotten.
But why create something else? I write for myself. I should do it here.
It's about time that Gillboard grows up.