I've not seen any human being other than my mother for four months now.
and I could keep on living like this forever.



She's starting to get quite frustrated with me again [but isn't it every day that it's like this?] and she's been pushing for me to start registering for classes since I skipped out of registration last semester.
I just wish she would be able to slightly grasp some sort of understanding of what it feels like to be utterly devoid of any ambition or purpose. I may look back at this one day and laugh. or I may nod in agreement.
but to be completely honest, I am so very sick to the stomach of reality and humans.
I would be forever content and happily disillusioned if I could just continue living in fiction. In my own world, away from people. Just animals. Yes, I'll live with the animals, and be content that way.

Sure, I'm being selfish. but isn't it the right of one being to choose how he or she makes out their life to be?

There are a few people who have been pushing for me to do something, anything, with my life. and I've seriously thought and thought and thought, and I have the dreams, perhaps, but seriously lack the motivation and can't get it back.
Doesn't matter anyway, because my dreams are silly and without purpose, which I'd dare not to share with anyone.

A few years back, I left a piece of paper with my dreams written on them on one empty table in a big, crowded mall. I walked away to a distance, and stood against the wall, trying to press myself away from the crowds of rushing people who all looked the same. and I looked back at the table at the small piece of crumpled paper as it sat uncertainly on the edge. A large group rushed by, and the wind from their passing blew the paper off the table, and onto the ground, where it was trampled by dirty sneakers, polished shoes, and high heels.




If only I could travel to some alien country where no one knows who I am, and then start all over again.

I've actually seriously reconsidered changing everything about me-- my face, my body, my voice, my memories-- everything that holds me back-- and then simply slink away from anyone and everyone that has ever known me. Crazy, I know. but I still think about it quite a lot.


I wish I was a tiny pixel in one single frame of a picture movie. One pixel that would flash then disappear, unnoticeable to the human eye which sees the big picture.
Whenever I move back the thick, draped curtains from my window to let in a sliver of sunshine, I watch as the bright rays of light carries along with them those tiny dust particles, and I wish that I was one of them, floating along until they fall out of the light.
Whenever I pour a glass of water, a cluster of tiny bubbles stay momentarily afloat before quickly popping into obscurity-- and I wish that I was one of them.
Something that is there, but goes unnoticed. Something that could not even be there, and yet would not be missed.
Anything other than who I am.



-------

Tethered to your branch, we hang in silence, still waiting for the ice to melt off our feet.
"One day," you say, "things will be better. One day, a small pond will form beneath you, drowning your uncertain shadows."
We sway as a slight breeze blows through, causing your branch to creak. and we stare into the distance with our frozen, unblinking, sighing eyes.