Sometimes I think I read to many books. I love living in the stories but do I have a hard time deciphering reality from my literature? Or do I just have big expectations and dreams?
I always had a very active imagination as a child and it's never wavered now that I've grown... but sometimes I think maybe it runs away with me in real life.
I long for a Mr. Darcy sometimes. I long for that movie romance. For the fairy tale. For the story with a happy ending. But lately, it just seems like I'll never get it. Or as if what I had has disappeared. I cannot always talk out loud about it and right now I can't even find the right words to say but I just hurt. It's like something is missing and I don't know how to say it or to find it.
I'm tired of the way life is sometimes and then when it happens, I'm too blind to it.
I'm ambiguous tonight, probably because I can't sleep and I'm running low on words period. I'll try and sleep to good thoughts. Maybe if I wake up to the sun, something will be different.
13 years ago
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