Negativity

I don't go to California. I don't go to other countries. And when I'm here I don't feel any glamor with the things I waste my money on. But there, oh, there. So silly of a sentence is the only way to express it, the place farthest from home, feels the most like home. Well there, I am glamor, I am fame. North of my hometown I am beautiful and every dime spent, shines my stride. There I walk with confidence even when questioned. In this glorious Philadelphia, I, even the biggest fuck-up, is the most perfect thing accessorising its streets.
Even love fails me here or maybe I just came home with the suggestion that if I walked the same way I thought I did on Philadelphia's sidewalks, I would gain the same attention as I did in Philadelphia. I still meet my macking goals if you will. My first night hanging out with my best friend, who stayed, and her new group of friends, I saw someone and I said to myself, "by the end of the night I will be sitting next to him." He didn't notice me at first, or second glance. It took over and hour to start the conversation, but by no means was I going to act desperate. I got him with the music, even though the former "model," as they're called for Abercrombie and Fitch, did not look like he could listen to even pop punk. Later, I've found through my internet stalking (actually he friended me on facebook), that he has one of those perfect girlfriends, crazy I know. But even though it sucks, I still reached my goal. At least I am sucessful in my loss.