Love.

Sunday's are always a blah. I have to say I really can't put into words how much I hate Sundays. They're always those days when you can have fun and then realize tomorrow you have to go to school the next day. I really hate Sundays. It's one of those burst your bubble days. Ugh... anyways after some major crying last night, I have come to the tragic conclusion that love, really doesn't exist.
The Notebook. It's one of my favorite movies, it's about an old man who has to stay with his wife in an old-folks home because she battling a diease that escapes my head right now. But it's the one that makes you forget stuff (Maybe I have it). But there's a whole other story with it, full of leaving and hiding notes and blah blah. Although that is what we would call a true love story, how often does that really happen? They meet as teenagers, she leaves, he goes into manic depression, she comes back, they fall in love again, she has to chose one man to be with forever, she choses him, they live happily ever after and die old in their sleep. Oh yea that really could happen.
The truth is, it can't and after all this drama last night, I truely, truely don't believe in it. No matter how much I've drempt about it and how many times I've wished for it. It will never happen, for me.
People say it changes their lives, it has yet to change mine. And when it did I couldn't do anything about it because I'm still here alone, while everyone else isn't.
That's all for stupid Sunday.
Real life I have to go back to tomorrow.
Peace. Love. Hope.
NCL.