Somewhere in this world is my place. A comfortable, yet giving place where I belong. When I close my eyes, I envision myself painting a new world with a sword and paper, recreating life the way I dream it to be. I'll fall so deep into narrative that I actually believe it's real-even go as far as to live the plots and scenes out loud. Someday It will live. I feel only the fret of running out of paper, hear only waves of my thoughts. I'll swim to the nearest city and build a ship to set sail limitless possibilities. Nothing is impossible, irrational, or untouchable. I'll write my own checks and sign my name.
The wisdom for my story derive from fact and the idea to write swirls carelessly around in thin air. I'll paint the world a distinctive color. Blue! Orange! No-green! Yes-green. Where I belong. I won't get shunned aside and pinned by bullies or picked last in basketball. I'll never have to stand in line to receive a ticket for the biggest show of them all. Like in the movies-the hero get's the girl-I'll be free-dancing around madly. I'll create buildings and blow them to shreds. Take breathe away and give new meanings to death. The way I envision is solemnly the way I dream it will be.
