Dear Life,

I know you believe you are the greatest and coolest and best ever - really, you are! I love you so damn much, it hurts from time to time. But after the last days, weeks, months, don't you think you could go back to normal? The way it was before? It would be very comforting to feel a bit of normality and security and certainty for at least a few days, you know, relaxing a bit.
And if you have to let me know that this is beyond your abilities (yes, I really fear that it will stay like this for ever), could you please, PLEASE! try to be less irritating? I know you love it to interact with other lives and that's cool! But - it's hard to cope with it sometimes. At least animate the other lives to be nicer and more normal from time to time.
I hope your love for drama and romantic comedies or tragedies and silly soap-operas goes over as fast as it came and we can continue our perfect relationship together!

Lots of Love,
Yourself.

I knew the human exaggeration for sorrow - a broken heart. Melanie remembered speaking the phrase herself. But I'd always thought of it as a hyperbole, a traditional description for something that had no real physiological link, like a green thumb. So I wasn't expecting the pain in my chest. The nausea, yes, the swelling in my throat, yes, and, yes, the tears burning in my eyes. But what was the ripping sensation just under my rib cage? It made no logical sense.

-The Host by Stephenie Meyer - 

everything that kills me makes me feel alive.

to whom it may concern;

i'm missing you. big time.
love,

lena
xx

recover - y?

When you are like 'I love my life, it's the best there is, possibly!" and then someone or something comes and crushes it. It might just be a tiny damage for someone from the outside, but right then, for you it is horrible. It throws you back, miles and miles.
Well, thanks, man! Thank you for showing me how irrelevant I apparently have to be to you. I mean, you've had a lot of fun yourself and actually I have know it all the time - but the messages I received this week made it more than clear. Still - I don't want to give up. I have hope. And I absolutely do not get you and your weird, queer mind - in that handsome head.
At least your BF, or however close of a friend he is to you, talks to me. Oh, well. Good life. After all. I'll make some plans. Jealousy works from time to time. Even with men. Love ya, guys :*