You'll be my true blog. Tumblr isn't the same. It feels yucky. Whenever I post on here, I feel a bit more truthful. Maybe because I know that people aren't watching.
Today I went to Birmingham. I mainly did it to do some shopping. I suppose the ploy was going to see Mike. Whatever. When I was on the train, I was standing up with some people by one the main doors. I assumed naturally that there weren't any seats. We got to the next stop and I moved from by the door to let people in. I noticed there were a few seats free that I could nab. One of which was next to a raven wing haired boy with glasses. Without much hesitation I made my way to him, asked politely to park myself next to him, to which he obliged. He was dressed all in black, including his hair, but he had a sophisticated edge to him, which enticed me. Jeans, tank top, shirt, and he was wearing a nice pair of glasses. A cute pair of cheeks on his face, a piercing under his lip and nice skin. He was quite quaint, but I could tell he had something about him too. Sort of emo-skater look, and the neatness gave him a nice quality. He was pretty. I had a slight feeling he had his eyes on me occasionally, which felt quite nice. I got that odd, sinking feeling from time to time that he probably had a girlfriend or something. Guys like him always have girlfriends. And unfortunately, he seemed like the perfect type of guy I go for. I was smitten. I was almost tempted to write my number on a piece of paper and throw it behind me as I left. The only problems there would be, I didn't know my number off by heart, and he was getting off at Shewsbury, like I was. I was connecting, he was actually going to the place. To see him go was saddening. In my romantic offset, I envisioned him casting the turning point in my life. The rift up the hill. I thought about him a while after, and it made me sad over the fact that boys like him don't pop up in my life as much as I would like them to. Perhaps it's the crowd I'm in. I guess I'm not like him, at least, not anymore. But then again, even when I was a bit of emo-skater kid I didn't really get into that kind of crowd. It kind of made me wish that I had a better grasp on my life. Why can't I be like them? I mean, I suppose it isn't too late. I can't say I'm happy. I'm not happy with where my life is, or the kind of circle I'm in. I'm not very comfortable in my skin of late. It's too cold to just wear a shirt and hoodie though. Hmm. I may just give a lot of my clothes away. Kind of sick of this whole vintage shit. It might be the cause of my depression. What'll happen is I will throw them away, and nothing will change. God, I wish things were clearer, honestly.
In other news, last Sunday, a couple of acquaintances and I got together for Valentine's Day and had somewhat of an Anti-Valentine's Day thing going on. We watched some films, one being Apocalypto, which turned out to be quite good. It was vastly superior to Up which I watched the day after. That was dreadfully disappointing. I enjoyed the montage that told of Carl's life, that was very cute, but after that it just went downhill for me. I didn't care much for it. But, I digress; I took some photos, and they've all come out quite nicely. Here are a few favourites:





I am at a loss of more subject matter, yet I want to continue on. It has be a while since I spoke a lot and in a way I respected. I often feel apart from myself. I'm going to Leeds Metropolitan University tomorrow to have a look around, as it is one of my UCAS choices. It will more than likely be my university of choice, however I feel a bit tired, but I am sure it'll be interesting.
Eliot, signing off. Thank you.
Followers
Once, there was a man, born inside of a world made of steal and hate. He was bred on unusual social habits, mainstream entertainment and silently strict principles. Eventually, he pulled himself up, dusted himself off and moved on to form his own self. He found nice clothes, amazingly unique music, put on his fake, large glasses, started writing stories and applied bohemia to his life.
Please, join on this trail of madness.
About Me
Don't Feel Jealous Of Tumblr, Blogger.
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