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I think everything in life is art. What you do, how you dress, the way you love someone and how you talk. Your smile and your personality. What you believe in, and all your dreams. The way you drink your tea, how you decorate your home, or party. Your grocery list, the food you make, how your writing looks, and the way you feel. Life is art.

Why do we find it so hard to let go? Why do we have such a difficulty accepting the inevitable, dealing with what's right in front of us - why can't we get over something we can do nothing to change? I guess we all just hope too much. Hope for the best, hope that he's still holding on when the truth is he's long gone, up, up, up and away. There's a fine line between faith and naivety, sometimes we're too in love to see that line and so blindly cross it.

I think it was the first time in my life I ever felt like I looked "good." Do you know what I mean? That nice feeling when you look in the mirror, and your hair's right for the first time in your life? I don't think we should base so much on weight, muscles, and a good hair day, but when it happens, it's nice. It really is.

Everything you have been told is a lie. Things don't happen for a reason. They just occur and you must deal with it, good or bad. People will always leave you because the potential for better is there thanks to the media. They do not care if they have to step on top of you to get to euphoria. Everybody has somebody they use. And everybody, everybody lies. They all get mad and say things they don't mean. But once they are said, they are out there, unable to be shoved back down your throat. Watch your tongue, but even more importantly, watch your back. There is always someone standing there ready to stab you.

But mostly, I cried because my life had been going full speed for so long and now it had just stopped, like running right into a big brick wall, knocking the wind and the fight right out of me. And I don't know if I ever even wanted to get up and start breathing again.

There are a lot of things we don't want to know about the people we love.

Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain't all sunshine and rainbows. It is a very mean and nasty place and it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or anybody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain't how hard you hit; it's about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward. How much you can take, and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done. Now if you know what you're worth, then go out and get what you're worth. But you gotta be willing to take the hit, and not pointing fingers saying you ain't where you are because of him, or her, or anybody.

I was thinking how amazing it was that the world contained so many lives. Out in these streets people were embroiled in a thousand different matters, money problems, love problems, school problems. People were falling in love, getting married, going to drug rehab, learning how to ice-skate, getting bifocals, studying for exams, trying on clothes, getting their hair-cut and getting born. And in some houses people were getting old and sick and were dying, leaving others to grieve. It was happening all the time, unnoticed, and it was the thing that really mattered.

For every beauty there is an eye somewhere to see it. For every truth there is an ear somewhere to hear it. For every love there is a heart somewhere to receive it.

No, I am not ok. I am exhausted. Life is exhausting. Loving people is exhausting.

The only fear you should have is the fear of not giving your all.

But we need to remember that life is beautiful. Look outside the box. Tear your eyes away, if only for a moment, from the destruction and pain. Imagine your life being beautiful. Tell yourself it can happen one day.

No matter what the outcome is, you have to realize you put your all into it and that’s what counts. Things happen how they’re meant to, all you can do is learn from them and accept the possibility of a better tomorrow. Of a new day.

Here’s to the nights when I didn’t know left from right, and you were there showing me, not telling me. Here’s to the nights that went on into early in the morning and yet we were still pouring vodka into plastic cups. Here’s to the phone calls that you took, even if they were at 4am. Here’s to the nights were we took long walks around just to talk and never got tired of walking. Here’s to the nights when even if I was doing something wrong with someone I wasn’t suppose to be with, you were still there defending me. Here’s to the nights when I knew you were still gonna be there in the morning, hung over and laughing about the nights memories. Here’s to being my best friend, even if I’m not at my best sometimes.