If I wanted to play mind games, I’d buy a rubix cube.

I feel like I'm just moving along in this life so slowly, my pace sluggish and weary. I go through each day doing the same damn repetitive things, and it's driving me insane. I dream of stars, and comets, and an endless, deep blue midnight sky, but when I awake, I'm greeted by the foggy air of the morning, and the whirl of the air con. I've found that my own chance of happiness is quickly vanishing, so I've been focusing all my time and energy on helping others. I'm not even sure why I bother, but I guess that it gives me a small sense of hope that maybe, just maybe someone will help me in return.
Though I've realised by now not to get my hopes high. The higher they are, the harder they fall. And they always fall.

fly fairy, fly.

I am a beautiful fairy.
I have colourful wings that gently flutter on my back, lifting me high into the air and carrying me along with the soft summer breezes.
I float through the air, with bees buzzing and birds humming all around me. I fly with the butterflies, and I am wild, a pretty little part of nature that no one can capture.
I am completely free and I don't need the affections of an insanely handsome, but out of reach man to make me happy.

I am so tempted to just fly right out of here and never come back.

pet peeves.

[Just a small rant of mine to a certain male I know. I don't even care if he reads this. Its a chance to say what I know I'm too nice to say in real life.]

You sir, without even a speck of doubt, are the most ignorant, conceited, high and mighty dickhead I have ever had the displeasure to meet in my entire life.

Who the hell do you think you are?
Strutting around like you own the damn place, putting people in categories before you even know them, yet claiming not to judge and to be a gentleman?!

Gentleman, my arse.
A gentleman wouldn't act like that. A gentleman wouldn't say things like that.

Why do you think you're so awesome? It fails to process in my mind.
Why on earth do you love yourself so much? Why do you think you're the hottest thing since sliced bread?

Just piss off, okay?
Seriously.

You're not cool.
And you can't play the guitar either.
And the face...
For fucks sake, the face.
It doesn't make you look dreamy.
Or deep.

It makes you look like you're having a stroke.
Which is exactly what I imagine everytime you pull it.

Stop saying 'fair enough'.
It's stupid. It's irritating.
Especially considering it's coming from you.
And could you maybe try to stop ranting about football?
I don't really give a shit.
And could you maybe try, just once, to eat quietly?

For god's sake, you even breathe noisily.
What's wrong with you?
Fuck off, and stop telling me every little thing that passes through your brain.
Nobody cares.
Nobody is listening.
No. Shut up.

Really though, you don't half try my patience.

You once said that you're just a word that hasn't been invented yet.
But dickhead comes effortlessly close, my dear.

As long as you think you're not at fault, I'm sure you'll carry on with ease.
Boy, you can make even the halo child feel like the guiltiest sin.