Fairytale Land

Another old one. I am really surprising myself with my writing abilities. Especially since I don't remember writing any of them, it's kind of nice :)

It’s almost as if everything were to happen, but for no reason at all, other than just to be. It’s like my world is surrounded by all these people who don’t care, and the ones that do, are lacking in numbers. A constant reminder is in the back of my head that I’m never going to be perfect, and that what I seek to be will not be reached by any depths of my imagination. All for the simple fact that no matter how hard I try I cannot satisfy anyone else in this world. And that is not to say that I care whether or not you think I am adequate enough for you, for your friends or for your lifestyle.

In a sense being satisfied with yourself is enough to a certain extent, but it is inevitable that at some point acceptance must be reached to move on and grow in this thing we call life. I strive to be something I am not, because that's what I feel is necessary, and what I want, I don’t know anyway so what’s the use. Everywhere I turn it is this whirlwind of events that all prevent my life from just moving forward, I haven’t seen a single day go by where something doesn’t cause me to take a step back and wonder what I’m doing wrong.

It seems like I can’t do anything right and although I try to solve these problems I face to my best ability I fail time and time again. The majority of my life that has been lived so far has taught me things I never wanted to learn, ones I never wanted to experience, ones I never thought I would have to. The surroundings I’m faced with are not ones in which I am accompanied by with any great pleasure, these in fact most of the time do nothing but damper my day and cause me to struggle at moving on.

Most of the time I find myself wishing to grow up get out and be something different, and it’s what at times seems to dominate the majority of my thinking. The rest of the time is spent wanting to stay in this shelter land forever, and to never have to seek my own understanding. And here I am... I guess in a way somewhat, stronger. Somewhat better. Somewhat different. Here I stand nothing more and nothing less than yesterday. The same Chelsea which, half of the world hates.

In the end it’s a matter of this simple thing, there may be half that hate me, there may be a majority who have plots set in place to tear me apart, ruin me. But there is always the half that loves me. Believe it or not. There will always be the numbers who make my day better, and make me smile a little more than they make me cry, those who make me feel more like a person than a thing. The ones that don’t make it seem like I can’t do anything right. Those who understand. Those who maybe will care, for the simple desire to do so.

Perhaps there will be a day where I am completely and entirely satisfied with my world around me, and maybe things will work out for the better, like things are supposed to. It all comes down to a matter or perspective, a matter of wrong and right, and a matter of the differences you have no choice but to endure.

It’s the way you see things, the way you hear things, the way you choose to live your life. The eyes that see things bright and clean will portray an image that is complex yet simple, an image that brings understanding and happiness, an image that brings change. The eyes that see danger dark and worry will experience nothing but the same for there is nothing else to see. The heart that beats slowly, calmly and carefully, will lead to a happy ending in the fairy tale we are captured inside, and the hearts that are hurting, the hearts that are black, have no choice but to dwell in their misery, until they seek the light and realize the beauty.