Jane Austen.

And though with that being said, I still feel my mind working over time.
I've thought a lot lately, and I've noticed that people don't take the time to notice things that were once considered wonderful. Like, the way the leaves fall, the way the sun sets, and rises. How Jane Austen could write six novels, about love and life, and never marry once. No one ever questions why some people have freckles, and others don't. Not many take the time to wonder how things work, like the little plastic piece on a shoe string, or how zippers connect the way they do.
And it seems that everything has to be bigger and better than before. But, if it is exactly fine, just the way it is, it's is foolishness, and tossed aside. And yet I sit here and I wonder. I wonder how people like Jane Austen can write so well of love, and never have experienced it for themselves. If you would remember, those of you who read books on a daily basis, that Jane was only engaged for one evening. And so I still wonder.
I suppose that my writing is fruitless, and hardly ever read. I suppose that the few who do read it never read it again. And yet people like myself take the time, and effort to sit and write, and re-read, and correct, and find the errors. I suppose I'm so afraid of rejection, that everything I write is terrible, boring rubbish.
Is that why people are so afraid of the dark? Is that why we're afraid to accomplish our dreams, to move out of our parents' house, to live in the real world? To worry about things other than high school, and magic, and ghosts?
With today's society, I am just completely marveled. Marveled at how greedy we are, at how depressed, and senile, and rude.
I suppose if I went out today, and went to let's say, Balenciaga, and I spent hours designing, and yelling about this dress. A dress that I would spend thousands on. And for what, exactly? Acceptance.
I suppose we feel the need to be accepted.
I for one, think that it's all bullshit.
You can have your designer dresses, your two hundred and fifty dollar jeans, your Jimmy Choo shoes. I'll take my pride in knowing that I don't have the need or desire to be accepted, the want to be loved by a boy or man that won't love me in twenty years.
I'll take that and throw it in the faces of everyone who told me I was foolish, bitchy, ugly, dependent on people, immature, irresponsible, forward, and desperate.
And for what it's worth, I hope someone can see that too.