“Once upon a time:, such a cliché. I have heard it over and over again yet I always long for the story that follows. Maybe it could be mine, maybe it can steal my heart into a new land where it can be free. Maybe this story can be about me, someone simple or someone different and it can finally work out. I hope that it can steal me away, far away. Somewhere I actually want to be, somewhere where I can struggle and win
“There was a girl who lived in a small town”, and again I am stuck with an image of myself living adventures far away from my reach. In the hope that I can escape not reality, but myself. Escape everything that hurts me or worries me. In the hopes that I can live something that I can never really live. So, that for a moment I am different, I am free to be whoever I want. Maybe someday within these stories and letters I can live an imaginary life that I can feel deep inside.
Within words I search for who I am, within memories I look for who I was and what I have become, through the night I try to define what I am. And in the morning I imagine what I can be. I can be so many things, but I am stuck with this me. Within hopes of happiness I imagine my smile and a life I want. Yet I still can’t see it clearly, it’s all blurry. I don’t know where to look, or if I can be found. Maybe I shouldn’t be looking for myself, maybe I should be creating myself. Maybe I can create the me I’ve always wanted to be.
My Virtual Reality 