They say when you are drunk you will speak the truth. So I ask myself tonight. Does that apply to writing? Will one write the truth if they are drunk too? Or is it just for those wagging tongues? What is truth anyways? Is it not possible that my truth is someone else's illusion? Do we not see the world through shaded eyes? I know I do. I have been wearing contacts since grade 11, when I was 16. My truth is., I am in love. I love the guy I love very much. I have always been a sucker for love. I don't know why. Is it hereditary? I hope not. The pain that love brings is almost as unbearable, as the pain that no love brings. To love and to be loved, or to love and to be not loved, there is bitter sweetness in every aspect of it, is it not? What is love? Why do we love? Why at the age of nine did I have a crush on this boy I barely knew. What is it about him that I liked? What sparked in me...., in us. We were too young then. But I am old enought now, so why does it still feel so right, and so true.
They also say, if you love something let it go, if it was meant to be it will come back to you. What if it doesnt? What if it went away so far away, that you question its existence. What is real. What is not. Was I really the gril that I was years ago? Or am I the girl that stares back at me through mirror today. Which one am I. Which is the better me. The one that appears to be happier? Which one is it. I look, and I look. I stare and I stare. The person on the other end of the mirror cries. I cry. We both cry.