Truly.

Dear,
I do not know your name, nor your face. I do know, however, that I will someday love you with all of my heart. Though time separates us, it is growing weaker. Fate will arrive when your eyes meet mine. At that moment our hearts shall also know all they've ever wondered. We are beneath the same stars and one day they will see us together. The moment our lips touch under pouring wedding rain, is the moment every angel's eye shall meet a tear. Our God will shake the hand of our Love. You will be the last to sweep me off my feet. Each day I think of you. How you're out there. Waiting. My love, do not search, for I will only be discovered when our hearts are in the right places. You consume more of my thoughts than you will ever know. When I see You, the sun will grow brighter and love shall have a name. For now, you remain the center of my desires. Sweet dreams, my shooting star. <3

Classic disaster. Beautiful adventure.

A couple months ago I made a list of things to do. The plan was to do these things, and then suddenly, I'de be myself again. I'd be.. Lexie. I'd be the girl who.. what? Who am I? Does anyone know? Because I certainly don't. There are about three or four people in this whole world that actually understand me. I'm not one of them. I don't think I ever will be. I've done almost everything on my list. I made a timeline of my past year. I bought.. earrings. I... made a new friend. I don't feel any different. I don't know what I'm expecting. It's not like I'll just wake up one day and know who I am. That would be nice, though. I took every crappy song off of my iPod. I got rid of a distraction. I loved. I listed my priorities. How can I be myself again when I don't know who I was in the first place? I know that I like hats. And I know that I hate sports. Am I the only person who thinks about this? I think too much. About everything. It's like a disease. Maybe by the end of this post, I'll have my problem solved. Is it a problem? Is not knowing who you are a problem? Or is it just how it should be? How are people defined? Is it like..by their family? Or their favorite things? Or what makes them happy? Maybe I'm always myself, and I just change. Or maybe, I'm myself sometimes, but not all the time. Maybe whatever I am or do or think is who I am. I'm always myself? When I'm tired and mean am I still Lexie? Because when Davis is tired and quiet, I say "You're not Davis." But he's still Davis. He's just tired, quiet Davis. So.. moods. I guess.. everyone has different moods? But, why? Why can't we just be feeling one steady thing at all times? I guess life would be boring that way. But if life was that way, we wouldn't know any different. Therefore, we wouldn't know that it was boring. Therefore, we wouldn't be bored. Who cares if we're bored? I think I'm in love with words. I'd rather read about a picture than look at a picture. That's weird. Why am I like that? Why am I so weird? If no one's the same, then is everyone weird? Is weird the opposite of normal? I've never heard anyone say anyone else was normal. This is my thought train. I love Train. I know what I love, and what I hate, and what makes me happy, and who my favorite people are, but I don't know who I am. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, or be. Because I'm The Wind. I'm.. I'm The Wind.

Sweet and divine.

I want to start over. With you. I want to..forget that you ever loved me. I want to forget my infatuation with love. With being in love. I want to learn who I am, before I let someone else learn who I am. I need.. time. I need to figure things out. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I'm like you in a sense that when I'm angry, I'm a bitch. When someone.. frustrates me, all my negative emotions break lose and pour out onto one person. It sucks. But. I'm not going to fight anymore. I can't. I can't fight anymore. Or argue, or cry, or.. stab things. It was good. A good run. I learned stuff, I guess. It seems like it was over, and that was hard. But the outskirts of the end are what really took a toll on me. In reality, it's not a big deal. It's such an infinetly small deal that I don't even know what I'm doing. I never do. I want to forget every bad thing, and every good thing that happened. I don't regret. Just forget. Then maybe in a month, or.. a year.. or two, it'll be alright. It'll be new. Again. Because I'm done.