There were flowers, with smoke billowing from them. White smoke, and orange flames, kissing the yellow flowers until they were brown and burnt and no longer smelled sweet. I watched, and was sad. Sad is a stupid word. I was moved, rather. By little yellow flowers. And I hate yellow.

I wonder what its like to be loved. REALLY loved. I read somewhere that between couples, one person always loves the other person more than their spouse loves them. Its really quite sad--no--depressing. Is it better to be more loved or love more? I'm not sure, really. Love in general would be nice.

Doesn't everyone crave love in some form? I crave it in every form. I just realized I started capitalizing my I's. How strange. I never used to because I was never deserving of a capital I. My mind works in such odd stupid ways.

No wonder no one loves me.

I'm still not deserving of capital I's.