First breath after a coma~

I like taking walks in a different world every once in a while; a world of fantasies and impossible-things-turned-possible. I enjoy being there and pretend reality doesn't exist for mere moments - it recharges my batteries and helps me get through the day easier. I write about that wonderful place and I mold it as I wish, creating lives and juggling with them, being the God I could never be in real life. When I write, I morph into the lead character of everyone's destinies, I become the outstanding person I yearn to be.

But it comes rare these days, writing I mean, and I feel like I've outgrown a bit from the dreamland too. It doesn't fit me like it used to anymore - I don't want to lose the only place where I am truly free... I'm afraid to lose it.

I should have studied more today. Instead I swayed around my thoughts and enjoyed the calming sound of the rain. I don't have curtains at my windows and they are quite big... I could watch the heavy clouds gathering up above the mountains' peak. I once had a dream about a large room with empty window sills, no glass, and cloudy skies. It gave me a feeling of belonging, of home...

I still search for that place - the highest floor in the building, spacious ceiling, white walls and opened windows.

I think I miss home...

Hey, me! Bye, me!

I might be not what people want to see, but I want 

to believe I stopped trying to level up to their expectations. 

I wrote this like several hours before actually being completely convinced I wanted to update something today. Well, that was a good choice of words I had there indeed, because, you see, looking at myself through day, analyzing why I do the things that I do, the way that I do them, I understood how much approval of of others means to me. I can pretend all I want that I don't give a fuck about a thing but it won't change the fact that I'm just pretending. I love being the center of attention, just not ask for it; I want things to arrange themselves naturally in my favor. I'm shallow like that, I've realized it myself, thank you very much!

The idea is that I don't really know how to live for myself anymore (maybe I never knew to begin with). Today I remembered a happy moment that happened a week ago, when walking along the beach under the pale white moon (I love being mushy in my writing, so deal with it). One of my new acquaintance (I have yet to call them friends because we met only two months ago) is 30 and she acted like a totally kid, jumping around and singing out loud... I really envied her at that moment, the way she could detach herself of her age, her inhibitions and act like that. I tried acting like her, dancing with her, but it felt so unnatural for my body, my eyes always seeking around for any strangers that might be watching, a reason to stop... I've always said I was a kid at heart - I don't really feel like one anymore.

I don't feel like anything anymore... I'm like an empty shell, a side observer and it's creeping me out. I don't know how to deal with this, don't even know if I'm supposed to deal with it. I wish I had all the answers I seek, but neah, not such luck for me.

I'm not a lucky person, and seeing how today I broke a tooth simply eating shows just at what extent that goes for me. 

I don't want to write anymore, this isn't helping me... and no one's gonna read it anyway - sometimes I wonder why do I even bother? (I'm just not worth the attention I need)

Fresh start

So I'm starting again this whole idea of blogging and I don't even know why... I suppose I have to do something to keep me busy from going crazy. I fail at life, I know