one true sentence.

I have so much so say, that i cant write.

I want to pour it all out into a puddle and just smear it across the page.

Why am i so detached, and feelingless. Why am i so uninspired. Im miserable. this is not who i am. I know who i am and what i want, why am i letting my life ride in every direction without taking control.

I want to be the girl that runs a 17:00

I want to be the girl with the long tan legs surfing

I want to be the girl that takes pictures, and makes art

I want to be the girl that has friends of all kinds and colors.

i want to be the girl that goes to rasta shows, dances and drinks dark beer on fridays.

I want to be the girl that didnt let anything stop her from who she wants to be

thats how i felt when i was on my own over the summer. i was free, i had no restraints and i could have or do anything i wanted. i was on top of the world, get that girl back

follow me, i know the way

I've left everything behind. Almost. my friends, my family, my team, California sand, and the west coast shore. My home, and a unbearable situation that still slightly sticks to my heart. I have one thing left. he comes with me most of the time, wherever it is I may be. I come with him, wherever it is he might be.

I heard, its not what your doing in life, its who your doing it with. Its who you make the Journey with.

I find myself staring at the ceiling, wondering again and again if i've done the right thing. As i open the door to my new strange apartment, as i chase a five foot three girl that takes two strides to my one. Im wondering if this is what i wanted as i wipe humid Florida air from my forehead. 11 miles, 12 miles, 13 miles. Im running on this road and i have no idea where its going. Im chasing Austrian girls with a running resume that boasts a family history of marathon runners.

A 2000 dollar college semester across the country

worth it? coconuts hang on the palms and iguanas lie lifelessly atop tree branches. Water ways lurk around every corner and humidity overtakes the afternoon air frizzing my hair, and wrapping my body in a hot sweaty mess. Slightly exotic.

East coast boys arent impressive, Hollister and Co. tee shirts, cargos, and crew cuts fortunately drive me up the wall. Girls are snobby, overdressed, and overdramatic.

But the scenery's always nice.