I'm Salina. I'm really overdramatic about everything, and a lot of people are put off by that. I put emotion into everything I do, and people criticize me for that. I love people, and people take advantage of that. I hate people, and for that, I write bad things about them.
Age: However old I'm feeling that particular day. It depends whose shoes I feel like walking in.
I still have a lot to learn, but with each passing day, I learn a little more about the "real world" my parents have tried to protect me from all these years. This is my muse.
The ring on my finger bears a promise greater than any you have ever made to me. Two years of my life you have already taken, and I'm looking forward to giving you so many more. I love you, Handsome. Now, and forever more.
I write about... nothing. anything. everything. all the things no one really cares about or takes time to think of. inspirations. love. "love". searching for truth. human nature. my love of stephenie meyer (discreetly, of course). my fate/destiny. youth. music. all emotions. physical appearance and self esteem. gay lovers according to my boyfriend: ). politics. war. hope. l i f e in general. Tell me what you think. It's not necessarily what I'm thinking.
I won't lie and tell you that I take constructive criticism well. It hurts, a lot. But, it's necessary and I will accept it with open arms and try my best to learn from it. I appreciate all comments.
'For this one night, could we try to forget everything besides just you and me?' he pleaded, unleashing the full force of his eyes on me. 'It seems like I can never get enough time like that. I need to be with you. Just you.' (p. 435 Meyer) love
Best Friends are the ones you can be yourself around, the ones who make you feel beautiful, the ones who catch you when you fall, the ones who will go out of their way to make you feel better... They are the ones who will do everything in their power to make sure you're happy, and they don't even want to see you naked for it... Although, mine might. : )
Myspace is overrated. End of story.
Love can never, and WILL never, be defined. It is different for everyone, so you can truthfully say that no one understands how you're feeling.
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