"i'm sick of this city and this boring scenery. you always complain saying i'm just too young, i just dont see the beauty yet, but why would i see beauty in prejudices and greed when i could see beauty in nature and humans, it's pure insanity. you say i need to get out more, make more friends, be happier with myself and i'll be happier here. well i'm happy with myself wanting to be somewhere else. i'm happy being quiet. i'm happy staying home to write instead of going out to party. well, if you're so happy, why are you still so sad? i'm sad because this isn't my life, or..well it is yes, but it's not the life i wanted to end up with. i'm not who i feel like i am, i should be on a porch in europe, writing in my journal for you, drinking coffee outside of my house, in ruins of course, vines growing where ever they please, my words growing where ever they please. i should be walking along cliffs, feeling the ocean breeze, laughing. but instead i'm here, in this strange climate, in an even stranger life and i dont want to be. i want my life back. i want the life i dream of. and i'd like it if you came with me."