I feel like sometimes my writing omits the best and worst sides of my inner self; alot of the things I express here often come out more poetic than when I try to say them in my real life. Though it had me wonder, why is it that when people are amongst who they love, they can’t speak honestly, but in private they think of what they could’ve said & are left with the same grief they felt the previous day. We often let the feelings of other guide us, and we forget that our own wanting are just, if not more, vital to our beings. It’s important to note that overconfidence & inflated self-importance is not what I’m refering too; nor to give into temptations regardless of others opinions. To simply put: I’d rather spend my days living it how I originally wanted too, then spend everyday trying to make other people’s lives happen in place of my own.