I feel like I need to write but I don't know what to write about.
I can feel things pent up inside but I can't tell what they are.
It's silly.
I don't think there is a feeling for what I am, or for what I feel.
So I'm just gonna write and see what comes out...
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I feel like I was never a dreamer. I was always a realist. I mean for the most part I had a kick ass childhood.. I explored the world (basically my backyard and my street) but still I don't remember thinking about anything extraordinary or exciting. Just your typical childhood in a quiet neighborhood in the city. Shame, nothing exciting ever really happened. Or, did it? And I'm just too "grown-up" to look back on my childhood ambitions? Either way it's sad. I want to be as carefree as I was then, but I want to go back and be able to think that nothing is impossible, that I can live any way that I want to and always be happy.. I was a really happy kid up until I was 9 (even after that, but.. never mind).
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After reading some things, I feel like everyone is suffering. That everyone thinks that their life sucks. That everyone goes to bed crying and wakes up and slaps a smile on their faces and goes about their day. Everyone has problems. Not everyone is perfect. Only a select few are happy. So why is it so hard for people to relate to one another? Why do we all try to hard to act like everything is okay, when really everything is falling apart?
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I hate being bored and having nothing to do. It drives me nuts and makes me think. I hate sitting still and not bettering myself. Took 2 tests today and now I have nothing to do. I want my grades on those tests.
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I had a dream last night that me and a bunch of people (6) were looking for the train stop. We accidentally took the bus into a neighborhood that we didn't know and then we wandered inside a huge department store looking for someone to help, but no one would, and those people who actually acknowledged us didn't have the answer. We finally found a woman who pointed us in the right direction, and the train stop was right outside one of the exits in the building, oddly next to some country from Disneys 'It's a Small World.' It was weird. When we got there and realized it was It's a Small World, I woke up. I never found out if we all made it home, if the train even came.
That got me thinking, I guess. There are gonna be people in life who ignore me, who see me but can't help, or don't want to help, are scared of me, and there are going to be people who will try to help me, but don't k now how. Or people who point me in the right direction, but then it's up to me to figure out how to make my way out of this mess.
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I can read forever. Finished 5 books on the train last week and 2 so far this week. Reading always has been my escape when things got too hard.
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