I don’t open up, and unless you really push me to, I won’t with anyone. As always, I guess. And it’s really weird, because on the other hand, I find myself quite comfortable in saying my stuff here where I’m mostly facing strangers. Cut the mostly. 

I need to figure out my next 6 years in a week. I can’t believe how I’m surrounded by people who just don’t give a fuck about anything and the whole situation is making me sick. And I know I want and need people who can act as solid human beings so I don’t get like this so often, so I can be calm somehow. But they’re all temporary and unattainable, doubtful. Do I want more from people than what they can really give? Perhaps. Or maybe that’s the point. Who knows. 

But to be a little bit caring doesn’t hurt anyone. To give a tiny little fuck. To call and remember a big day; be joyful and loving about it. To just confide enough to be whoever you are with someone else. To support. 

Well, I’ll cut the crap and read some book instead.