It can be so beautiful, life sometimes. Driving in a jeep with the doors ofc while it’s pouring rain. Holding your hand out to feel the rain drops slap your skin but having it feel so warm compared to the air that you don’t want to retract it. Life can be so perfect. So easy. It almost makes it worth all the pain, all the sadness, all the suffering.
Moments like that and you feel good and free and beautiful. An american beauty

Sometimes life can seem so perfect. It can feel as if I’m a character in a movie and it’s surreal. Like star gazing on a clear May night, lying in the back of a jeep with the roof and doors off. Or going 80 down a country road, racing next to a pick up truck with some troublesome boys who get so close to you and hand over cans of beer. Or climbing down cliffs on Friday nights to spend hours on a beach with drunken classmates.
But then I go home and I get so lonely and sad for no apparent reason. I feel as if I might cry but I know I can’t. I feel as if something heavy is pressing down on my chest, relentless. I feel anxious and I have no reason to be. I’m a head case.