The World As It Was

For most who have known me, I have not been anything special. I don't draw the eye in any profound way or inspire others to be like me. I know I am not alone with these lack of extraordinary tendacies, far from it. But life has bored me to a point now, where I feel the need for something more. Something life refuses to yield.

I remember even at a young age, the dullness of life consuming me. Never was I satisfied with the idea of an imaginary friend, the concept wasn't on a big enough scale. I changed myself instead. Wrote a history of my life that differed from that my parents would tell you. I would become anything my mind could think of, and at that age, my mind held no bounds. To this day I see the remnants of a world that grew bigger than it's creator.

I look back and remember my many attempt to ease the ache of boredom: The army that served me once upon a time. I remember walking the halls of school with an absurd feeling of power. Even my teachers were able to be pushed around without fear of consequence.
I remember trying to destroy everything I had become throughout life. All my morals and ideals I rejected in an attempt to create some sort of excitement. In the end that simply lost me all the people I had come to call friends.

I've disappeared with barely more than the clothes on my back to return and see I have vanished from memory. People I knew for years can look at me without a spark of recognition in their eyes. I've been married, divorced, the flame of life threatening to flicker out more times then I care to count. I held the bones of the dead in my bare hands and although each of my life's experiences have been shared with someone, I stand alone. It seems that my thirst for meaning in my life has instead bore chaos.

I see this life having more excitement than I care for. Life born from destruction was never my intent, but it seems I am unable to control myself. I've hurt some of the most important people in my life in a subconscience attempt at feeling hope. And now I am at a crossroads. I am not sure which path I am taking, but I assume I'll be back eventually, maybe with a part of who I was before the chaos. I can only hope.

If Dreams Were Potato Chips, You'd All Starve

The minds of all creatures can bend and twist reality to its liking. You all have the capability to use imagination. Yet reality seems to be defined by what you can see and feel. Even though, what you see and feel is far less enjoyable than the world we can create in our dreams.

Humans like to think of themselves as intelligent creatures, which always gives me a good laugh. You think of your childhood, before you were consumed by work to survive. You think about how free you were then. What you wouldn't give to go back to a time where nothing was more enjoyable than blowing bubbles. And here is where I ask, why can't you?

Everyday I watch as people go on, miserable in their lives. Working at jobs they hate because society has bred the need for a career and a fear of change into them. Not a day goes by that life brings an ounce of joy in comparison to what they had as children, where imagination ruled their worlds.

You can argue that you had parents to take care of you, giving the freedom to live in your dreamworlds, while they took over the responsibilities of every day life. But, being the intelligent human beings you all are, I assume you can understand the concept of doing two things at the same time, yes? You can comprehend the idea of brushing your teeth, while your mind is futilely trying to grasp the details of a dream, like smoke through clenched fingers?

Submerge yourself wholly in a world of your choosing, while also being aware of the "real world" you are so convinced is important. Knowing something is outside the contructs you define reality by, but believing completely as if it were not, is something the mind is absolutlely capable of doing. You will find yourself a much happier person if you try.