I've spent such a long time, believing that if I found someone to love me, things would change. Maybe it's from being an only child, or being estranged from my family. Maybe it's just from watching too many Disney movies.
I just thought, that eventually things would change.
I've realised today, after another attempt at being 'we' that I will always, only be 'me'.
There's no magic around the corner. It is and always has been, in my mind. Buried inside of me. There's no magic anywhere. There's no key, there's no special moment, there's no happily ever after, there's no happy. It's all nowhere.
There's just this, empty, bullshit life.
And a pen. And a notepad.
And all the magic in the world, is trapped inside of me. And the reason I can't find the courage to write it down, is because I'll finally, just finally have to admit... that it's not real. It's all fantasy. It's all hopes and dreams, and wishes and impossible aspirations. And these, tiny, yet spiralling magic wishes of mine, are all I've had, are all that I've held on to, to stay sane. To keep going. To keep breathing.
And if I were to give those magic dreams away, then what would I be left with?
Other than me?
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