I feel like I say sorry for my absence, sorry I’ve been missing, hey again I know it’s been a while. I know that must get annoying. No consistency is hard. Not like I have any readers who notice. I am not missing. I am on a vacation in my own little world in the clouds that I have created to make sure that I have a bubble to escape to whenever I am feeling down. When I am on Earth I feel like my head is stuck in a fish bowl, as if I am under water and everything is going in slow motion. You know when you jump off the diving board and as you hit the water everything begins to move slower like time has stopped and somehow you are still going. Where you can feel your own heart beat and everything seems serine for that one minute that you can hold your breath. But then sooner or later, no matter how much you try to fight it you have to go up for air and then everything is sped up again as you breathe in. I was always the kid who tried to hold her breath the longest. I’m pretty sure my longest time was like two minutes or something. I wanted to live underwater where everything moved slowly. I would float in the ocean for hours staring out into the water, not caring about the people on the shore. I still do sometimes when I am at the beach. I’m pretty sure my friends think I’m crazy for being out there that long just staring. I’ve always been considered odd. Heck people call me all sorts of things. Strange, crazy, wild, etc. What they don’t know is how scared I am all the time. How I feel my life is boring and I really never even leave my room. Sure I go out and hang out with my friends and we have had some wild times. That’s what people remember about you is the things they heard about you doing the “wild things”. That one time you went crowd surfing at a concert or when you jumped off a bridge thirty feet in the air. They never remember that you stayed in your room all weekend watching 90’s movies and eating yogurt with pieces of fruit in it. When the rumors go crazy about the “wild child” or “free spirit” I am, I hide in the girls handicap bathroom stall. I sit on the floor and write. The kind of writing you don’t want to read because of the ideas in it that if they got out people would think you were crazy and wanted to kill yourself (but you do). All they see is the free spirit they but don’t understand the vocabulary I hold or how the random fact I have hidden that will never help me but I still enjoy them. They don’t get to see my knowledge on Greek mythology. All they hear is my jokes that the intelligence in them sometimes surprises people but I know the truth, I see when the joke goes right over their head because they couldn’t comprehend what I am saying so I just laugh as they see me as the air head with no future unless it was to take my pretty pretty pictures that they do not see the message in. Some of my friends know me and how I am and how I don’t try in school but still pass and the way I can persuade people to do what I want when I am not afraid but they still know my fears and try to help me with them. Sometimes I don’t see how lucky I am to have them but I hope they know how much I appreciate them. I feel everyone should have friends like mine who take me out of my bubble, who make me come up for air, who see my dreams and even though don’t always understand my point of view ask me instead of criticizing me because they know I’m not dumb but different. My free spirit will take me somewhere, they know that. No one sees my writing but the hand full of people on here who read my struggles and dreams. Better get off my rant and end this. I will be late, I will always be late, but I need something to write about meaning that I must go out on my wild free spirit ways for people to go crazy taking about me so then I can tell the stories to you and then feel full once again. It’s a cycle.
Love ya. Wish me luck.