somehow here is gone

Life is what you make it. Heaven and Hell are what you make them to be. Your past is what you've already made. But how can these things possibly be measured by another? How can someone else understand the value of certain actions and accomplishments? It's near impossible. I would never want a book written about my life. I always thought I would write a book about it someday, and maybe I will, but it wont be a book with an end. It'll be a book with a beginning. I think writing about someones life in a book is unjustified because it can't catch the beauty and unexpectedness that we go through day by day. Life is so much more than a book. Life is so much more than a memory. Life is what we are, and we are here for a reason unknown, but I'll be damned if I don't live this life the way I want to in the way that I see best fit. The pages of a book can't capture an unsuspected dance floor makeout or burrito all over the floor. A book can't grasp the feeling of having everything to nothing in a mere night. Words can't explain how you feel when you close your eyes and you know this is right because it is who you are and tomorrow is just another day and today is a day you wont want to waste. Tomorrow isn't guaranteed. It's a thought we can't grasp. I still can't grasp the idea of someone not being here after five long years. There are days I wake up and I think she is still here. There are dreams I have that weigh me down for weeks about her. It's an internal grudge I will have all my life, and no one will every understand my bittersweet feelings toward her. No one will understand how I felt that day, I could never explain how I felt when it happened. Life is so surreal. Surreal like a painting. Many different aspects, opinions, point of views. Life is a cruel critical game, but I choose to play my way and I don't care who tries to win. I am me, not tainted or toyed with by others. I wont change for the petty. I am me for a reason. Life recently has me on edge. I want something to be proud of, and to make certain people proud of me for. I am in a pinch where I realize I got lazy and coming back to the top is a struggle in itself. I have also become accustom to feelings I haven't been in tune with in a long while, and I'm not sure if they've ever made me feel this way before. It's beautiful. The irony. The struggle. The accomplishment. No matter how frustrated and upset I get I always smile because I know I have been through worse and made it out alive, and I wont let anything get me down. I am me for a reason, and I am so proud of it all now.