I don't want to talk about cheap jokes or try to make symbolic poetry that no one will understand at first glance this time. This is more on a personal level. Normally, I'd just write in a journal, or diary if you want to get nit-picky. This chapter is an honest reflection upon myself. I could write this anywhere else, but I made a home within Wattpad. I have other accounts on other websites, but it just feels right here.
What do I want to get personal about? Not about life problems or life grievances that inconvenience me. Just a true expression of myself. Whether anyone else thinks this true and may judge me is of no importance. If I watch this in the future and regret everything, please, let your younger self as least express his heart once in a while. Otherwise, we'd be mindless drones.
I live my life in an imaginary world, living adventures in my head. I tend to watch the world unfold as it does, but what I imagine is just more appealing to me. It's because I made it and I'm proud of that. Yet, there are moments where I ask that what happened to me in real life. "Do your job. You have a responsibility." And if I do nothing, I blame myself as a lazy bastard who achieved nothing.
That's why I dream another world where the amazing occurs. Perhaps their superhero powers are overkill, but we all crave more power. In truth, despite their characterization and their flaws, they are at least what I wish I had friends for. Not for their powers or responsibility, but what they are at heart. I don't focus on their purpose. Purpose is what dictates the narrative. I treat them as a person. Maybe they are reflections of myself or someone I want to be. I've done that for 19 years, dependent on real people's approval, yet welcoming the imaginary people's more. It's weird, but their approval, those in my head, just feels like I'm honest with myself.
I'm a liar, but I never tell a lie outright. Can't keep one for more than a month. Pretend, that I can do. My mind says do it, I bloody do it. If my body fails, I give up on it. Expalins my depressive phase a lot more now that I realize it. I gave up on myself. My persistence only works upon fear, but my ambition lacks love for it to truly be my heart. Crap, I'm getting poetic again.
I love my friends dearly, hope they live great amazing lives. I've always had a fear to ever say "friend." It just hurts. Not because I fear commitment. My mental mindset says that every person will have a job and purpose in your life. They will eventually leave after they achieved their job. That's actually true in paper, but then there's attachment and love. We can put technical terminology as we want on paper, but there's never a 100% in the perfect concept of, dear I say love. It's frustrates me that I fear to say "friend" or "love." It just seems so taboo, but it just happens by itself. You can't control it. Influence it, yes, but to master?
Then why is it that I relate and give my heart to imaginary people more than I do in the world I'm in? Sure, I'm disappointed in the world I'm in, but because I can't do more. I can't just "do it all." I can get glory and honor, but what does it truly do for me? I want friends. That's as blunt as I can be. I'm scared. Judgement? Perception? No. I'm solid on myself. I can lie to myself, but I'll know I'm BS-ing myself. I am very skeptical on the world or word of magic. Yet, I can still say "magic" when it comes to the imaginary people in my head.
I keep having this vision of me lying on a sea of grass, flowing as it is. Sky blue, couple clouds of white, dissipating as it swims the sea of sky . It's not me I see, but a drawn figure picture of myself. The grass is quite real though. Then, there are other people lying next to me. And more people. And more. But it's not with the real people in my life, but those in my head. Those closer to me are close to me, but those only on the tip of my mind fill the space to expand of lay space. The grass never ends, but the people just keeps growing. But the people are see-through. The further they are, they are more transparent. And soon, they disappear. But they are still there, their presence prevents me to forget. They are not real people. Just my imaginary friends. The closer they are...
I do not accept the love in my life. Just a sense of duty, but as I grow up, and I'm ashamed as I blame it on puberty or the process of growing up... Amazingly, the vision still solidates another with me, closer than anyone else, ear-close, but respects a sense of space to lay with each other together. I'm ashamed to say it was always a girl, but in this generation where gender is now a spectrum of a bubble, it's less embarrassing. They say love has no boundaries, yet there's a fluster in admitting it.
Then, there is when the sky will darken. There are stars shining like diamonds. The grass still flows, but I am alone with my eyes closed. Is this the representation of life? Community? Love? Depression and death? Why do I think of it if I fear to live it? But life happens. They say "Death happens." and "Life sucks!", but no one bothers to say, "Life happens." We live it and we're gone.
I just had another thought. More on as I grasp on when we die. It's commonplace, likely for atheists, that when we die, nothing happens and the world will go on. Are we nothing? People also believe that we'll receive damnation or endless paradise. That, I have little faith in. We make the world we live in. Ironic and I say that I like to see the world pass by. But then, I remember the grass. Ask why are we here. Not to change the world or live for ourselves, but to experience magic. Again, I have little faith in the word, but the explainable needs a positive word for to be satisfied. Don't ask those questions. Enjoy the ride.
As I lay on the grass, I can't help, but to feel contentment. The sky will change and the grass dies someday, but I enjoy it. Imaginary people or real, I like the world I live in after all. Not the way it works systematically, but it's magic to see such a vision happen.
It's good to say how you feel once in a while.
