Lately I’ve been having these nightmares, where I’m running in an endless alley, and the deeper I run, the darker it gets, until I can’t see anything and collapse, which breaks my dream and leaves me with another sleepless night.
I seem to be following a painfully monotonous routine nowadays: wake up, fake a smile, survive the day and then survive the night. And if I’m lucky enough, I get some sleep as well. Just surviving, that’s all.
I feel like Charlie of Perks of Being a Wallflower: lonely, weird and geeky. And although I’m absolutely fine with the ‘weird and geeky’ part (‘cause, well, that’s what I am, and I’m happy with it), it’s the ‘lonely’ part that’s kind of suffocating the air around me. I’m surrounded by these pretty, little, doll-like beings: outwardly perfect and inexplicably dumb. Perfect people scare me, because they seem inhuman, whereas dumb people just drive me insane with their empty-headedness. I’m such an invisible bundle of mess.
Do you know what its like to feel so alone that you wish you could disappear, just to find out whether anyone will ever come looking for you? I wish I could buy Harry’s Invisibility Cloak online. Or at least Hermione’s Time-Turner.
Books, music and black tea are my only best friends, especially now. They listen to me, hear my soundless screams, see me cry without any rhyme or reason and then laugh mindlessly; all this, without ever complaining. I don’t need to pretend and I don’t need to smile. I hope I don’t bug them off, or else I’ll have no one to talk to. I probably won’t, right? *hope*
My thoughts are doing an intermittent ballet performance inside my head, prodding me to scribble down my hazy words, but my pen is running dry and my sheets are sleepy.
I’ll have to start devising ways to polish the rusty, creative corner of my brain, and get it to work soon. But just like music gets louder when you close your eyes, the words start conglomerating before me, looking down and smiling:
I’m like a butterfly, struggling to spread her wings, and waiting to fly. But the world shuts her down every time she dares to dream.
I’m like a tiny ball of snow stuck in a snow globe: beautiful, and helpless.
I’m like the first drop of rain: worthy, but lost.
I’m like a girl in love: happy, but broken.
Lots of love,
Creative Insanity.
I seem to be following a painfully monotonous routine nowadays: wake up, fake a smile, survive the day and then survive the night. And if I’m lucky enough, I get some sleep as well. Just surviving, that’s all.
I feel like Charlie of Perks of Being a Wallflower: lonely, weird and geeky. And although I’m absolutely fine with the ‘weird and geeky’ part (‘cause, well, that’s what I am, and I’m happy with it), it’s the ‘lonely’ part that’s kind of suffocating the air around me. I’m surrounded by these pretty, little, doll-like beings: outwardly perfect and inexplicably dumb. Perfect people scare me, because they seem inhuman, whereas dumb people just drive me insane with their empty-headedness. I’m such an invisible bundle of mess.
Do you know what its like to feel so alone that you wish you could disappear, just to find out whether anyone will ever come looking for you? I wish I could buy Harry’s Invisibility Cloak online. Or at least Hermione’s Time-Turner.
Books, music and black tea are my only best friends, especially now. They listen to me, hear my soundless screams, see me cry without any rhyme or reason and then laugh mindlessly; all this, without ever complaining. I don’t need to pretend and I don’t need to smile. I hope I don’t bug them off, or else I’ll have no one to talk to. I probably won’t, right? *hope*
My thoughts are doing an intermittent ballet performance inside my head, prodding me to scribble down my hazy words, but my pen is running dry and my sheets are sleepy.
I’ll have to start devising ways to polish the rusty, creative corner of my brain, and get it to work soon. But just like music gets louder when you close your eyes, the words start conglomerating before me, looking down and smiling:
I’m like a butterfly, struggling to spread her wings, and waiting to fly. But the world shuts her down every time she dares to dream.
I’m like a tiny ball of snow stuck in a snow globe: beautiful, and helpless.
I’m like the first drop of rain: worthy, but lost.
I’m like a girl in love: happy, but broken.
Lots of love,
Creative Insanity.
The mind monkey jumps from branch to branch, calm it. Beautiful outrage, the ever optimist has faced darkness for the first time yes?
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