All I Need Is You

We don't need to go that far
Let's hold on to where we are
If it's real we'll make it through
'Cause all I need is you.

I'm riding a wave of emotions lately. At least that's how I feel.
I feel emotional, people around me feel emotional.
Basically, everyone's on the verge of pulling their hair outta their heads, strand by strand.

Can you imagine that happening?

Too bad I don't fancy being bald (I still love you, Jean-Francais Stinco!).
Or I might just give it a try.
And you know that I am crazy enough to do it too.

About a month ago, I expressed my utmost disappointment to a friend.

The feeling has returned.

The flames ignite from within, consuming me inside out in its turmoil as I begin to wallow in pain and sink deeper into nothingness.

Yes, I have a tendency to be melodramatic.

But that's honestly how I feel.

Sinking.

If you fall, stumble down
I'll pick you up off the ground
If you lose faith in you
I'll give you strength to pull through
Tell me you won't give up
'Cause I'll be waiting if you fall
You know I'll be there for you.

Nevertheless, the irony therein is that instead of helping myself, I'm trying to help someone else. Okay, I lied. A few others as well. Yet, I realise that if I can't help myself, I can't possibly help another now can I?

Gosh, I'm seriously a mess. But nothing a few songs can't help, I hope.

I didn't cry the day you moved away
Didn't think that I would feel this pain
Until I saw the stranger that was you
Whatever happened to our innocence?
And that something that you said about being friends?
Tell me how, help me the words out loud

T_T

Upon rereading the post, it sounded as though I'm suffering from teenage love problems.

Ha-fucking-ha.

I, unlike M*****, don't get myself meddled up with love problems. I rather spend my time making fun of Lenna for eating too much marshmallows and chocolate and laughing at her when she falls sick. Okay, nah. I'm not that mean.

And to be honest?

I feel much better already. =D Writing is a release, undeniably the best form of escapism anyone can wish for. Am I supposed to thank God or thank our ancestors or thank my parents?

Whatever; thank you, God for what I have today. Thank you, ancestors who invented hieroglypics and thank you beloved parents for enrolling me in a nunnery*, because despite everything, they still taught me how to write.

The Carmenata.

*The politically correct call it a hell hole or a penitentiary. The politically incorrect say it's a school. My friends and I are better than those two: we say it's a nunnery. For the boys: it's called a monastery.