Recently, after school has finally ended, I've been very relaxed.
Almost sinfully lazy, though.
I feel good. I feel sane.
My imagination's running slowly. It's starting back up, now that everything else is gone.
But I realize, I'm not certain.
I'm wavering.
I think I've lost myself again.
I think I've strayed too far from myself again.
I'm not sure. Whether to say I'm sure about myself or what I'm doing or what I'm going to do...
I'm just not sure of anything.
Am I living too close to the present?
If I am, why won't my imagination take me away?
Like it has all those other years?
Has it betrayed me?My world of fantasies are coming back again. Suddenly, I'm thinking of dating a boy who plays the guitar and sings for me, in the Tokyo street lights. I'm thinking of boys in my anime and mangas hooking up with each other, even though it's obvious they're just best friends. I'm thinking of a story of how the sea met the sky, and even though the sea reflects the sky, she isn't as
wide or
free or
blue.
There's no reason, but I think my fantasies have always been signals. They move me just as much as they move others. They affect me in the same way that they affect others. I think every story should be made like that. I wish I could live my life writing of beauty and ugly, dark and pure, love and hate. I wish I could have the words at my fingertips again. Pouring my soul out onto the paper in front of me,over and over and over again. But sometimes, my soul's too tainted to even touch. On those days, nothing runs by me. The words run away and disappear. They fly away from my shores. To the skies I can't reach.
I want to spend my days bringing together my fantasies, and bringing them to life with words.
Why is that so hard?