(pictures of you)

I used to keep those in my lonely-box. Turns out that I became someone else when I figured I didn’t need anyone’s approvement to do what I wanted to. And you see, people will hate you anyway. They’re gonna say you ain’t no God to make justice, but you’ll be so tired of fighting that you won’t even try, because somehow they’re right. But who is making justice if God’s taking a nap? 

Maybe I wanted my life to be like a Bertolucci’s movie, and that’s the reason why I left this stupid and unhealthy idea consume my mindless body. The boy you like will convince you that weed is cool and you’re not gonna die. But you’ll freak out, because you never kissed anyone and the only thing you ever did out of the box was getting drunk at your own condo. He’s great, and I know it. He looks like a 90′s indie boy, he smokes, wears those cool bands T-shirts and listens to Oasis. And no one in your class does. But hey, you can’t even meet him. Your insecurity won’t let it be, your anxiety won’t let you in peace and what do you do with the tongue???? I mean, fuck him. 

I have to deal with the fact that everything takes time. I won’t be making art and history tomorrow. But Olivia said yesterday in her Oscar’s speech that you never know. Anyway, I’m so sure I wanna live from art. I wanna feel what Cuarón did shooting Roma. I wanna cry when I see a story by me on a huge screen. I wanna call my currently school and say: HEY YOU! LOOK WHO DIDN’T GO TO LAW-SCHOOL! But so what, right? My mom said, take it easy, Wardah, but I’m such a fool dreamer. I hate when they say life is not a chocolate box as Forrest’s mother said. Do I have to suffer to work? Do I have to marry? I don’t wanna live like that. I wanna be a badass woman. Someone that people can look at and think: fuck, she will leave a legacy, she did ART.