Passion.

I sometimes see people who dream about being singers, actresses, dancers, etc, since they were little kids. I would be lying if I said I always wanted to be a writer. It might be my passion now, but I wasn't always too fond of writing. As a kid, I always dreamed of being some sort of entertainer: dancer, singer, actress... - but all of that was shattered when my confidence vanished. I guess people telling you over and over that you're not good looking enough and don't sing well and don't act well, sometimes can make you believe that what they say is true and therefore, to you, it becomes a fact and not just a subjective observation made by a person. After those dream jobs, the other jobs I dreamed of having also had nothing to do with my current passion: teacher, flight attendant, archeologist, etc.

Although my love for literature was a late bloomer, for as long as I can remember I've loved telling stories or making up stories. I always had a very vivid imagination, I guess. As a little girl, I'd spend hours playing with Barbies and all other sorts of dolls, making up stories. I always loved movies, so most of my ideas had a lot to do with movies that I watched. When I was in primary school, I developed a love for drawing and people sometimes praised me for my drawings, even though I still don't think my drawings are anything special. I still remember my first grade teacher insulting me, because to fill the sky in my drawing, I drew a small cloud. This love for drawing kind of made me come up with a comic book story and characters. I called it 'La Cucaracha'. I even thought about become a comic book artist, but that idea didn't last long.

After this, when I was in the 4th grade, I was very bored one day, and grabbed some papers, a few pencils and began writing a small twelve page book complete with illustrations. I just remember it was a sadistic story that happened in an island. I kind of liked writing it, but it wasn't until the 6th grade that I picked writing up again.

Like I've said before, I wasn't always too keen on reading / writing. It wasn't until we were asked to read a book in the 6th grade and do a report on it, that I actually began reading books. I started with teen / children fiction books - some books I probably would never read now. And that was when my love for reading began. In the 7th grade, a friend of mine and I began a book in portuguese called 'Cleo', which was the first out of the three or four part saga we had originally planned. We only wrote the first and half of the second before we stopped.

Once again, after that, I kind of abandoned writing and thought about becoming a fashion designer or a lawyer, but once again those dreams never really stuck around. I only went back to writing towards the end of the 8th grade / beginning of the 9th grade, when I began writing a story which I never finished. It made me realize that I still loved writing, so throughout the 9th grade, I began writing a lot, specially fanfiction.

Fanfiction was actually the main reason I began falling in love with writing again, and I decided to move on to my own original fiction again. Now my current dream is to be a published writer and I'm going to do anything to fight for that. I realized that writing was the only dream I knew I could fight for and I've gained more confidence in myself and in my own stories and poems ever since I began writing again. Whenever I come up with a new idea, I feel this happiness and adrenaline I rarely feel. For some reason, I feel like I have so much to say to the world and writing is kind of an outlet in that aspect.

Actually, I don't want to sound pretentious, but I want to be the next Arthur Rimbaud.
His writing amazes me in every possible way. He is definitely my biggest inspiration in writing. I can't judge my own work, so I can't tell if it's amazing or just average, but I can't see myself doing anything in my life that doesn't involve writing. I've to picture myself in every other dream job I 've had, and I just don't think it's right for me. My other dream is related to writing: traveling the world and find inspiration in other places and cultures.

I guess my passion has always been storytelling, but now I've finally found my way to express that passion.

Momentary happiness has a price...

...writer's block!

-facepalm-

Prescription.

Diagnosis:
self-deprecating

  /ˈsɛlfˈdɛprɪˌkeɪtɪŋ/
–adjective
belittling or undervaluing oneself; excessively modest.

Prescription:
confidence

  /ˈkɒnfɪdəns/
-noun
belief in oneself and one's powers or abilities; self-confidence; self-reliance; assurance.

Serious Message.

B I T C H .

You're not Willy Wonka.

I had to say it :3
Can't be depressing all the time D:

Quote I Love

"And then, there's another kind of love: the cruelest kind. The one that almost kills its victims. It's called unrequited love. On that I am an expert. Most love stories are about people who fall in love with each other. But what about the rest of us? What about our stories, those of us who fall in love alone? We are the victims of the one-sided affair. We are the cursed of the loved ones. We are the unloved ones, the walking wounded. The handicapped without the advantage of a great parking space!"

- Iris Simpkons (The Holiday) -

My letter to no one.

I don't remember how it feels like to feel... normal. For years I've kind of been depressed the majority of the time. It doesn't look like it, because I try to transmit optimism that I sorely lack to other people. I don't really know why I am like this, I don't really have any problems that could make me this way. I love my parents and my brother, no matter what; I adore my friends, who I think care about me (I will get to why I don't say I know); I do well in school, or at least better than average... So why could I be this way?

Ever since I was twelve, I've had some suicidal thoughts, probably because I had a reality check and didn't like it. I've looked out of the window and thought 'Maybe I should just jump. Not like anybody would care...' Then throughout the 7th and the 8th grade, I kind of didn't feel like I belonged with my friends, I felt like nobody really got me, I felt misunderstood. But I guess many people feel that way. But I wasn't suicidal. I was actually kind of cheery and optimistic compared to lately.

By the time I was in the 9th grade, I began to feel like I belonged with my friends, and this became stronger in the 10th grade when I began to discover who I really was, although I think my journey hasn't ended yet and I'm still prone to change. 10th grade I began to feel love again. In the 11th, I never felt more depressed and happy at the same time because of it. Rejection had its advantages, but it's still not an easy thing to take. But my suicidal tendencies didn't return because of that.

Sure love played it's role, but I think I just care too much about people. I listen to others and try my best to comfort them, and sometimes, involuntarily, I get dragged into their problems. And I sometimes don't know anymore if that's the only thing people really think of me: as the person who is there always to listen and to give words of wisdom, when all she feels is like she wants to end her life! I love helping people, but then I feel like if I were gone, I wouldn't make a difference.

And that's why I'm not sure if my friends really care about me. I love them, don't take this wrong, and they are probably the only people in the world, besides my family, I'd do anything to never see them the same way I am. But I can't really help can I? What good can I do? Apparently all I'm good at is creating more drama and being egocentric. Fuck, I don't really know if I died if I would make a difference. I'd like to die and see who would cry for me and how would people react, then come back to life and maybe, just maybe, I would be sure again. Sometimes the only thread keeping me from trying something stupid is my family, because I know my parents and my brother would take it the hardest.

But people think I am very good at giving advice, when the reality is: I don't know much. You ask me about love, and all I can tell you is about my delusions and broken hearts. You ask me reasons to live, and all I can tell you is phony bullshit because that's exactly what I need. You talk to me about your problems, when I already feel so low, feel worthless and sometimes don't know why I care so much. I'm probably worse off than you. I probably am dumb and I'm just pouring out my sorrow onto you, like at this precise moment.

I don't like who I am, I don't think I'm a good friend, I don't think I matter.

And I try not to cry, because I want to be strong for others. I don't want to be vulnerable. I want to fight, I don't want to give up and I don't want people to think I even think of giving up. I smile, I laugh, I tell you to do the same. I want to see you happy. But I don't really know what I can do to feel happy.

I try so hard to think another way, but then I dig myself a deeper hole, whether with my own problems or other people's problems.

I am too ambitious. I want all my dreams to happen. I dream a lot. I dream about writing and nothing makes me happier than seeing people reacting and writing is my way of escaping whatever I'm feeling at that moment. I often watch people's reactions while they read or watch a movie that I've already watched. It's something that fascinates me. I want to leave my mark. But that is too ambitious of me, and I doubt it will ever happen. But I won't give up on it.

And no one's advice can really help me, because no matter how many people have been through the same, I always feel like I'm alone in this, and nothing you can do or say will help me. I'm a lost case. If you hate me, I say I don't care, but I feel hurt, if I care about you. If you insult me, I'm too numb to feel the insults sting me, 'cause I've heard too many insults throughout my life that I can't even feel bad about them. If you love me, I probably might doubt it, and I don't know why.

I guess you're probably sick of hearing about me, but I just felt like writing this. Yes, it's probably egocentric. And maybe I am selfish. Maybe I'm a liar. Maybe I'm fake. I don't really know anymore. I don't like who I am. I lie to protect others and others hate me for it. I pretend I'm strong and fine and others think I actually am like that. Tell me, who am I?

I'm going to end this now. I think I've said it all.

The glass.

The glass:
It's not half-empty;
It's not half-full.

It's completely empty.
It was barely ever full.

Give me a reason to fill it again.