i hate how the weekend ends so quickly. not because i don't like my work, because i do. but freedom is intoxicating. i wish i never had to grow up. perhaps i have peter pan syndrome, although it's not as though i fear getting older, just that i don't want to. i don't believe in reality. i wish desperately to paint my world the way i'd like it to be; paint it in words & wings & glitter & colour & beautifully sculpted phrases, hide behind melodies & journals & imaginary worlds. i live by escapism these days, and sometimes, 2 days just isn't enough of a break. i know everyone can relate though, and i know i have nothing to complain about in the greater scheme of things. but weekends are my haven. i never truly valued them before.
i don't belong in this world, with all it's harshness. i try to find the beauty in all that i can, but then i wonder, is living in yr own dream world really a good idea? how adaptive can denial be; but if the alternative is facing the coldness of the world, the pain of living, and all the injustices we feel helpless to prevent, then maybe inventing our own safe havens is really the best idea.
i never did fit in with any group; but i think right now that i'm happier to be that way than to compromise myself in order to "belong".
&i still don't want to grow up.
could i just be a moonfaerie instead?