I leave in 7 weeks and i think i've actually found someone i could possibly eventually love. bad timing. but he makes me feel like i'm 17. he brings me picked flowers and takes me on picnics and kisses me on train tracks.
i went to an hour and a half long ballet class tonight and thought i was going to die. i've never been in so much pain in my life. but i'm gonna stick with it. i'm gonna be a ballerina.
when i'm happy, it only lasts a couple weeks. im so fed up with that.
last night a cute boy told me that i looked like a little dancing star in a pretty dress. that's the sweetest thing ever. but i'm trying to not get excited about anything ever again. what's the point?
i've decided i'm going to start writing in my journal more, but for now i must catch the bus to school and fail my greek art test that i havent really studied for and i'm going to cry as a result
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