But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.


Long live the reckless and the brave.
I don't think I want to be saved;
My song has not been sung.

I took a shower an hour ago, and for some reason my mind wandered to how I need to buck up and pull myself together. So, I've decided not to wade around in self-pity and actually get out of this rabbit hole.

My problem is that I have no idea who I am and what I want from life. 

I have a theory. If I could do the same things I did when I was younger, aged 12 for instance, and compare what I feel now to what I feel then, then I'd know what I truly love and what I pretend to. 

I realised this when I was putting lotion on my face (as I do after a shower) and I had my iPod on shuffle. I Wanna by The All-American Rejects came on, and my hands weren't fit to change the song choice, so I went with it. I found myself bouncing about to the song, as I did when I discovered the song back in 2008. And that little drum solo before the last chorus still gets me, as it did when I was 12.

I noticed this with all the other songs I loved back then.

So, I draw this conclusion: if a certain thing made you feel the same way as you did back when you first discovered it, then it's worth keeping. 

I don't think this made sense, but it's for my future reference to remind me that I've got to stay true to myself. And nobody reads this anyway.

Je vous aime, mon chéri. Je le veux dire. ♥


Nothing's more bitter than the sting of the wind against your tears.

Look at the sky, darling, and tell me what you see.
You can't quite describe it, can you?
It's like stardust and joy and there's nothing like it.
Those are memories, darling. Memories of you and I, and of the feelings still untold.
There's so many, and that's only a peek of what's bottled up inside me.
I bet you barely remember anything.
I bet you barely remember me.
Even if you do at all.

Oh, darling, maybe there is something worse.
Something more bitter than the sting of the wind against your tears.

Nothing's more bitter than the wound you left when you forgot me.


When people ask me what my favourites are, be it music or band or actor or film or book, I almost immediately answer things like alternative or Mayday Parade or Freddie Highmore or Inception or Harry Potter. But every time I say that, it seems like something's wrong, like something's missing.

I've been thinking about this missing piece for a while now, and I think I've finally arrived at the answer.

It's not that alternative music or Mayday Parade or Freddie Highmore or Inception or Harry Potter aren't my favourites, but they probably came to mind because they're my current interest. It's because they're on my mind almost all the time for that period of time, and they're the first that pops into my head. Obviously, my sub-concious mind can't differentiate between current interests and all-time favourites. I'm not answering your questions properly, so to speak. If you want the correct answer to those questions, and not just what currently occupies most of my mind, you need to give me some time to mull things over.

While I thought about those things, I realise that I come to love those under-appreciated. Under-appreciated characters, under-appreciated songs, under-appreciated band members, under-appreciated books. Even if I'm not too fond of that particular book or singer or whatever, I still tend to appreciate certain elements of it that I find deserving of respect. There are exceptions, however. But the majority that holds my heart are the underdogs. They're the ones who deserve more love than they get.

I mean, I came up with these answers by asking myself why I love the things that I do. Some - well, most - of my friends give me the impression that they love the things they do just because it's the 'in' thing to love. I don't. I try to keep that to a minimum, if it needs to exist in myself. Why love the things just because your friends fangirl over it? Did you trade your love or appreciation for temporary popularity? It doesn't last, you know. And anyway, I'd much rather fangirl internally or by myself and have my friends sit beside me and stare at me blankly because they have no idea what I'm talking about, but they stay put because they get it - that I love the subject I'm fangirling about -, instead of having my friends accept me only because I pretend to enjoy the same things they do. If they can't accept your interests and passion, then they're not friends.

But you probably already know that.

This is becoming a rant, and I really don't want to spoil my mood. It's raining, I'm in an incredibly comfortable state and I have my favourites - real favourites this time, I mean it - on shuffle.

But that's okay. Why should I nose around people's business anyway? It's a waste of my time. Let them love what they love, regardless if they're aware of what it may or may not bring. I'll love what I want to love. And right now, I want to love this naturally rare chilled weather and James Morrison's sexy voice accompanied with a lovely piano and guitar arrangement of Broken Strings and my ever lovely duvet.