Winter dies the same way every spring

I always like to pretend I like movies that don't have happy endings. Most of the time, I prove myself wrong. If there isn't at least a tiny ray of hope shining at me at the end, I am generally displeased. (There are some exceptions, I'm not too awful all the time) Basically, my girlish- heart is so predictable. I've begun to write again, not only for my class, but for myself. It feels nice. My headaches have returned, but I am keeping myself optimistic, (with excedrin migraine in my purse, and sunglasses handy) and have made it my never ending mission to make sure that the only air that enters my lungs is saturated with hope. I like being alive. I like eating egg salad subs from publix, I like buying construction paper in the craft store for clever ideas i'll never carry out, and I will never stop yelling small stories, bad jokes and sorrows, though my voice will ache to yell many more. I like being alive.

also, I just noticed that my last two posts have had pictures of people looking upwards. Weird, huh? I must say, though, I am partial to the one in this post, with backwards binoculars and a backpack. (The cutest nephew this side of the mississippi.)