Write about the things you love.

I love lying on a blanket in the park, listening to Snow Patrol or other such music, and daydreaming about one of my imaginary boyfriends.
Is that sad? Probably. But it’s not like I miss having a boy in real life. I mean, some things I miss, but I don’t feel incomplete because I’m single. I kind of like it this way. I like spending time on just myself. On the things that make me happy, make me feel alive.

Like creating art. Is it shoddy art? Sure. But the act of drawing and painting and making something that way makes me feel content. It fills me up. It allows me to be who I am.

I am someone who watches tv-series I love over and over again. I am someone who will cry very easily at the hardships, happiness and sadness of fictional people but who saves the crying in real life only for the big things.

I am also someone who loves her family and friends, but who sometimes needs a little push to pick up the phone. I like spending time with them, or just asking how they’re doing. But I can really drop the ball on this, and this is so very, very important. Just know that I am sorry, and I really do care. I love you most of all.