Achromatic

"I'm not living
I'm just killing time
Your tiny hands
Your crazy kitten smile

...

And true love waits
In haunted attics
And true love lives
On lollipops and crisps"

Fairytale.

The picture above... it reads "Britt". Over and over and over. Who is Britt? I do not know. Who wrote all this? I do not know. All I know is, there's something wrong here. There's something wrong when anyone has this amount of influence over someone. A romantic symbol or an obsessed ramble. I've know both. This could be either. All I know is I hate it. I hate how idealised and easy love is painted as being in films. It's not. It's like some dance that people try to learn while doing... in that sense, having big feet is not helpful. I don't dance. I don't do this right. I remember why I enjoy being alone. I don't disappoint myself. I don't frustrate myself. I also don't make myself happy, but I don't make myself sad either. Lately, I've been rewriting my childhood ideals. I don't want to love a "Britt" or be loved by a "Britt". Love should be easy and free and fortify happiness... instead, it breeds insecurity and stress. Maybe it's just me... I wouldn't be suprised if I just struggle with the mundane and enjoy the thrill of the chase more. I'm only 18. I don't understand love. I'm a child. A baby.
This is not a fairytale, its life. I am not Romeo, I'm Ryan. Love is not love, it's chemical... and I failed chemistry.

Adios.