The truth in this statement rings clearer every day. I am a dreamer, and I will never fit anywhere.
The prince and princess visited LA this last weekend, and normally I would have driven down to LA and gone completely cuckoo over it, but for some reason my American sense wouldn’t allow my dreamy sensibility to do this. But I did go through all the reblogged pictures and cooed over the princess's beautiful poise and attire. Two people so in love is always lovely to see. I hope they are very happy together.
Love in America is not nearly as lovely as it is in England today. In fact, I'm starting to believe that love doesn't exist here at all. We just make stuff up and call it love to make ourselves feel better about how horrid we are to each other.
I'm angry with her. I'm angry with him.
I know it's unreasonable,
but that's just tough.
Because I'm pissed.
I would never have done that to them.
Ever.
I have very little faith in humanity today.
And I'm worried it won't ever get any better.
Maybe I’ll move to England.
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