So lately I’ve been thinking a lot about reality, and creating your own. I’ve always been fascinated with other people’s realities and how they see and shape their world. When I was about eleven or twelve I remember I went through a pretty long phase of collecting little words, thoughts and random tidbits that I thought became another persons reality once I had them. I kept a little notebook with all these things and would basically just step into that persona whenever I was dissatisfied with my life at the time. I was (and still am) so fascinated how each human sees the world differently. How each moment is experienced differently for everyone.
In the past few years I’ve realized that that sort of escapism wouldn’t really work as I become older and started to find myself more and more distanced from creating my own world, especially when I was having trouble in my real life. In the past few weeks though I have realized that that sense of my own world and the escape I could find has translated itself into my writing, my outfits, my bedroom, the things I listen to/read/watch etc. This realization was especially comforting as the past few weeks have been brimming with change and I have found that all I want to do is basically hide in my room and not think about anything that is actually happening in my life. I have been loosing myself in books and films and music and writing and slowly reconstructing my little world.
I realize that I can’t hide in my room forever mumbling about reality and marathoning My So Called Life but for now, in my last few weeks of summer before high school, that’s really all I want.