all my memories are still here. burried in archives. you know, i always love it here. i could write the longest entries that dont seem to end and everbobody didnt use to mind it. i was carefree, i was vociferous, i was innocent, i was me. and now, at 18, im a liar, a procrastinator, a wanderer. im not entirely sure if i am the slightest bit wiser from the 2 years that had passed since i last wrote an entry for this blog. all that i have now are the mistakes, the regrets and somewhere along the way, the lessons i had learnt. maybe thats all i meant to have anyway.

well, i have always been a dreamer. i dreamt about being in love, having someone to brush their fingers through my hair, having someone's name to scribble on my hands, on pages of textbooks, on every available surface, having a reason to call someone at night just to ask how their day had been, having the perfect first date eating ice cream at swensons, to stroll with at the beach, to rub noses with or cuddle or tickle or swim with, reading on the bench at the park with my head on his lap (yes, very notting hill, i know) to try out salsa classes with, to ride on horseback with, having someone there with a wet towel when im down with a fever, someone to travel with, try escargots and rattattoui with.

yes, i am a romantic, a hopeless romantic. im not looking for a boyfriend, im looking for someone a little more... permanent.