As a child you think of life in the most wondrous of ways, like it's something that is awe inspiringly new every time you see it. We don't see it as it actually is. We see it as an unbelievably gorgeous fantasy world of fairies and goblins; wizards and fairy godmothers; kings and queens; princesses and their prince charmings; kingdoms and dragons; knights and damsels - all the things we wish the world was: simple and free.
But then we grow up. Broken is the illusion of safety; our guardian angel deceived by the witch of the west. Life catches up with our developing minds. We don't get time to correspond the new world before us as we are thrown into the pit of vipers going through simple tasks such as putting the garbage out one minute before being thrust into the social struggle of humanity, being forced to mature at a pace we deem to fast. There's barely anytime to stop, think and recollect before we're off again on our over-extensive list of "quests". But when we do get to think it's about the next shopping day, the next time you get to see your friends, the next meal break and the odd reconnaissance of what was said throughout the day and the reactions and feelings contributed to it.
There are points in life that will be all light, fluffy and careless like the clouds on a clear day; dark, grey and wet like a thunderstorm turned for the worst... And then there are the average boring days where you are just doing normal stuff and something will trigger a nerve; or maybe a memory...
The good old times when you had not a care in the world might suddenly pop up and you're left yearning for the good days and trying not to have a mental breakdown in front of everyone. And you're left wondering,
Where did it all change?
Where was the warning bells?
When did you stop caring about the world?
When was the last time you were free? ...
And that's when you realise, 'hey I should leave some time out for myself".
That's why I write; to let out all the emotions caged up inside. Why I read; to get lost to the land of possibilities. Why I draw; to have the feeling of being in control. Why I listen to music; to feel free again. Why I pray; to regain the hope and feeling of companionship thought to be left behind in the tyranny of the Devil's temptations.
"I write to give myself strength. I write to be the characters that I am not. I write to explore all the things I'm afraid of." - Joss Whedon
YOU ARE READING
Confessions of a Lost Soul
Random"Where did it all change? Where was the warning bells? When did you stop caring about the world? When was the last time you were free? ..." This is an account of numerous random things that happen everyday of our lives.
