I thought that maybe I've been living in a fairytale or a movie.
My life is coming together so nicely, and I'm watching it all happen full of content.
I realized that's what is wrong with it.
I'm watching.
Not experiencing it, or living it.
I'm reading.
Fascinated to know what comes next, but not actively concerned.
There is no real thought as to what is going to happen.
Not in a carefree way, but like nothing will really affect me.
It won't matter in the end.
I thought that everything had finally fallen into place, and that I was recovering.
I realize now everything is just distant.
A small concern.
A fairytale I can set aside and pick up later, not giving a second thought to the heroine that used to fight so hard.
This is not quite disassociating.
I am not numb like usual.
Dampened, but the feelings are still there.
I laugh as if I am some character my mind has made up to go with the words I am reading.
Everything is so close to clicking.
The puzzle piece fits, but the colors don't match.
I'm so close to what I've always wanted, always imagined.
It doesn't feel quite right.
I am reading a fairytale, but I am ready to just set it aside and stare at the wall.
Maybe then I would be myself and not a lost heroine.
