A Midsummer Night's Dream..
What a wonderful, wonderful title. Poetry and literature, their inner words, are so magical. I'd love to write one day, I'd like people to read what I write, and tell me that I'm good. I'd always like people to tell me that I'm good and beautiful when I'm good and beautiful, otherwise I really don't know it..
Summer's such a wonderful season. Once I used to hate it with all my nerves and bones, I loved winter instead. Now it's the opposite, I love the summer breeze, the sea, the light dresses, the evenings, the summer people, the heat. Winter's so cold, so huddled up, so close in itself.
I was thinking.. will people ever be happy with what they have? Maybe we are just made to be unsatisfied, we are taught since we're little children to want things, to yearn them, and to throw them away once we got them. We want more, and more, and more, material things, but maybe the happiest people are the ones who haven't got anything, who are like animals, who live in close quarters with nature, our mother. We're so superficial, we are driven by advertisings, we want to be happy, we pretend to be happy, but we'll never be in this world.
We shouldn't own anything, we should just love, love, love, love, love, love, love and love, keeping in mind that the word never-ending doesn't really mean anything..