The Pursuit of Happiness Watching people living their lives is the most fun and exhilarating part of my day. I go to a movie or a restaurant and there’s a cute couple that works beautifully together; they are so engrossed in their love for each other to notice that a stranger behind them has been in the same places as them all day. I don’t even take caution anymore when I go on my joy-walks. They don’t notice so I just openly follow them. The first time was easy and I did it unconsciously. I just saw these people living happy lives and followed them. I saw their lives: where they worked, their happy places, the place where the man cheats on his wife… All of them. The cheating was okay, I guess. The wife was a prostitute. After the first couple, I continued these trials. It’s my version of a pursuit of happiness and I’m not infringing theirs so loophole. Maybe it’s not the best thing following random people or couples around and seeing their lives, but who’s going to stop me? They’d have to know and nobody does. The only excitement I get is following those people. I work in a boring office with boring people leading extraordinarily boring lives. The people I follow though think that they’re living good lives and they think that they’ll get somewhere. Maybe I think that following them will rub off on me. I don’t know.

First It's been an awful 6-7 days or so. This previous Thursday I went to my great-grandmother's funeral. Not only did it make me question all aspects of #life as we know it but it made me question God. And I figured out that I dont believe he exists. I wont stop others but I dont believe myself. Friday was the funeral. There were at least 50 people there from my mom's side of the family and I only knew 10 tops... I feel blind or stupid or idk. But there were a bunch of tensions and it was awful. Saturday we came back and got home around 5 o'clock ish. My boyfriend and I got into this big fight and I called him heartless and he broke up with me. I asked him to sleep on it but I knew it would end like that. He officially broke up with me Sunday night. Monday I got to see him and I have a class with him and I cried during my last block. And I cried myself to sleep. He was my best friend but then Tuesday happened. I started talking to him again and we were on rocky waters but we were making it. As friends. Wednesday went ok but I missed him. Then Thursday came along and he called me an undeserving slut. A b*tch. He didnt know why he ever dated me. I was a waste of time. A huge one. Him and his ex never had arguments. His ex at least made him happy 90% of the time. His #life is less stressful without me. And now im being the girl that cries over him. I keep wondering what I did wrong bc I have this issue of low self-esteem. And so Im analyzing everything and finding nothing. Only that I wasnt perfect. Which makes it 20x harder tbh... Goodness I hate crying

Heyy I walk down the empty sterile hallway, my sneakers squeaking with my every step. At the far back corner of my mind, I know I should go back. I know I should forget. I can't. My curiousity is a parasite feeding off of my adrenaline. With my heart racing, and my fight or flight instinct on, that parasite is having a feast. I don't even know why I came in here in the first place. I felt a strange pull on my head and then I started walking towards it. Same when I opened the door and walked in. Why would I want to come to a long abandoned hospital? Look at all the unsanitary rats. I finally get to the mental ward. A cool breeze sends shivers across my skin and makes my hair stand on end. I have the feeling that I'm being watched. "SFKSNXIAN!!!!!!" I cried. Someone had grabbed me from behind and was tieing me up. BAM! Lights out.

Forgotten Forgotten doesn't mean forgiven. Often people forget that. We Rustle and tussle with people and Get the gift that over time people forget. Oh well. We can't change a Timeless habit. A Traditional assumption. Even now, we stick to tradition. Never will we learn. Forgive and forget. ##acrostic

Day 1 I glance at the new guy. He just "happened" to get sat next to me. I dont think so. You see my teacher is one of my mom's best friends. That means their main subject is moi. My mom recently told my teacher that I have social issues with guys. I'm not kidding; that's exactly what she said. So my teacher was nice enough to help her out. The guy's name is Tommy, and I'm almost positive he's gay. I've known him for about a week now, and I would place a bet on it. He's constantly worries about fashion and his voice, well... You know. However, I can't judge because my mom's a lesbian. She says she was straight at my age too, but that the lesbian #life grows on you. I hope not. No offense to lesbians, but that's too weird for me to comprehend. Anyways, he is currently reading a fashion magazine instead of writing the report on the book we just read. Whatever. "Okay, class!" Ms. Hadbj yells. "Reports are due tomorrow morning. And there's another new student coming so I'm going to switch the seats around, again. Have a nice day!" I get my stuff together. The bell rings. I start off for home. The whole time I'm thinking about this whole bew student thing. I hate new students. They always get sat next to me. And they always have a bad attitude. That's okay. I can deal with it. I have 2 friends, and that's enough to make my day. Even though one is to preoccupied with her boyfriend and the other with her crush. Ugh, boy-chasers.