the things i over hear can fill millions of pages in a book

and yet

every time i leave the theater i am tired of it all

i’m tired of the people

and the places

tomorrow will bring the same dragging existance

i’m not in a funk. i’m honest

i dislike the people who can tolerate me and right now i don’t believe that there is one person out there that could even understand what i want

i don’t care about being alone that doesn’t bother me. i just wish i had someone to talk to that didn’t see me as negative or a whatever label they choose

i never pretended to be a super model and i never wanted to be one. i am the girl behind the camera, directing the shot, in control of what is uncontrolable

i do not wish to sleep with 50 men but if they are all uniquely tasty then why not? too bad i’m quite a many short.

yet all i see in coffee shops are caffine addicted teen machines ready to find their one true love and have babies on this already over populated planet. and the ones who aren’t interested are depressed victims. i know, i’ve seen both, i’ve been both. and that i why i feel alone.

no where have i seen just someone in the middle. who doesn’t want to get totally fucked up on hollywood’s next big thing. who doesn’t want to meet mr. one and all nonexistant fairy tale man.

i am done with the fairy tale. i am done with the college life style. i just want a nothing job where i get a meanial salary in a small apartment with a fish and no one knows my real name.

it never was about that lost shoe or the bell at midnight. it was about doing the impossible. and i’ve forgotten my fairy tale along with my passion.