20 юли, 2014


My mind has been on overdrive for the last couple of weeks and it finally found its own escape in making me experience a little too realistic book scenes while I am supposed to be doing something else. It is always the case. Writing and inspiration find their way in to my messed up brain and my insanity overwhelms me. Not that I mind. It feels so much better to be lost in a story rather than lost in the circles of hell that my reality has provided for me.
I want to be watching the fireworks with a wild smile on my face and for someone else to be enjoying my craziness for fireworks. I want to laugh and read quotes out loud and not feel like the crazy person I am because this is good inspiring crazy. I want to read and discuss the same books and not turn it into a technical thing by looking for the history behind but for the story itself. I want to be dancing in the rain and smiling like I have nothing in the world to care about but this exact moment of happiness.
This was using you to fulfil whatever the hell my insanity needed. It felt easy where it hurt before. It still hurts every now and then but I am slowly learning to ignore it, cut it off and pretend I don't feel a thing until the lie starts to feel so real I no longer remember lying to myself.

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