Everyone knows who I am referring to when I say “The Taoiseach”, and I no longer have to translate the words “rubber” or “craic”. And no one asks me if leprechauns really exist or if Irish babies drink Guinness.
Spring :D Such a nice season: before it gets too hot in summer, but after the freezing cold of winter. The season of spring for me IS e.e. cumming’s “in Just-“
in Just- spring when the world is mud- luscious the little lame balloonmanwhistles far and weeand eddieandbill come running from marbles and piracies and it’s springwhen the world is puddle-wonderfulthe queer old balloonman whistles far and wee and bettyandisbel come dancing from hop-scotch and jump-rope andit’s spring and the goat-footedballoonMan whistles far and wee I feel weird about liking this poem — it’s childish in a way. It’s just like playing in a playground all day at the zoo. (I’m guilty.) Neamy :x
I think too much. I care about small things. Words hurt... a lot. Most things break my heart. Beuatiful friendships, beautiful days, lovely people, crazy romances, great books; all of them left behind, everything is passing by so fast. I vent on tumblr. I don't like Jonas Brothers, I think Camp Rock is annoying, but I think Demi Lovato is a great singer. I love my friends, but I still feel lonely. I want to finish Highschool. I don't have a perfect body, but I eat whatever I want. I'm trying to stop caring about stupid things that sometimes ruin my day. I'm still learning, I'm lying ( WE ALL LIE), I'm sleeping, I smiling, and most of all: Hoping. 'Cause that is what's making me move on. We all hope things will get better, we fight a battle everyday and we don't see it, maybe because most of the time we're fighting ourselves. I want to love myself, but it's not that easy. I'm complicated. I want to be loved. I'm smart. I want to kill someone. I'm human. And I want to believe I'm part of something good, I want to be more than someone, I want to love, inspire, change, and I want to believe that someday it will all make sense.