I feel so lost, as cliche as it sounds. I would think there would be something more, but maybe there isn’t. I think in all odds, it’s not getting any better really. I don’t want to kill myself. I want to kiss a girl on christmas and I want to see shooting star, and write more, and I want to cry. It’s the little things that make it or break it you know? Because the big things are just to damn unreliable. That’s what I think at least.