So I've started to realize this thing about life.
Everything I want out of it isn't real.
I don't want real life. I just want this wonderful, beautiful, colorful, romanticized version of life that is impossible.
I blame Disney. Not really, because that'd be lame and wouldn't really work. But wouldn't it be awesome if you could shift the blame that quickly and have it be true?
I always want someone else's life. Someone else's style, talent, personality, body, face, anything and everything. Just so long as it isn't mine. It isn't even that I want it to be perfect and happy neccessarily. It could be rather tragic, and I'd be okay with it I think, just so long as it was one of those types of things that was tragically beautiful. It could be broken and screwed up, so long as it was in one of those perfectly, poetically broken ways.
But instead I have my life. My style, talent, personality, body, face, all of that. It's not tragic or perfect. It just...is. There's nothing poetic or romantic about it. It's just me going through motions every day trying to get through to the next day for no particular reason other than it's just what I do.
No goals, no motivation, no direction. I just sit on a couch drowning myself in books. Tune out my surroundings with music. Overstimulating myself with picture after picture. All these beautiful words, notes, images. I just want to absorb them and have them become a part of me. Maybe if I did I would have something to show. But instead they just stay outside staring back at me in almost a taunting way as if to say "look at what someone else has. you can't have it. you will never have anything so rich as this."
I think I resent that quite a bit.
My life is blank. I don't enjoy that much.