The world has always been quite odd to me. But I suppose that is mostly because of the way I see the world. If I were to describe it to you, it would probably seem overly intricate, highly unfriendly, but at the same time awfully promising.
I don’t remember a time before my distrust for people. I barely remember a time before pain was a constant. I do remember a time when I thought things would get simpler. I still do I guess, at least in some ways. Socialising will probably never get simpler, but I hope, easier to succeed at. My mind will likely never stop hurting and horrifying me, but I’ve gotten quite used to it. I will probably never truly see eye to eye with my brother, but that might be easier to live with when we don’t live in the same place.
Have you ever thought that the world wasn’t how you see it? That perhaps what you see is just an image; a fools belief in dreams and hopes? Or perhaps just a dystopians suicidal reflections of a place people live? I have, both, and occassionally at the same time. Makes for a wretchedly confusing experience. The world is not how I want it to be. I don’t believe anyone truly wants it to be the way it is now, even if we are nigh seven billion. I aim to make my world, my space, my life and my circles what I wish them to be. I do because I have always dreamt, and always hoped. I know nothing will truly become as clear as I want it to be, but they might get close. I frequently change my vision, but it never travels too far from its origin without me noticing. Do you want to know what I dream of the most? Somewhere where I may be accepted as I am, not misinterpreted based on peoples insufficient observations and interactions with me.
I know that is unlikely to happen, and that the only place where one might hope to have such acceptance is in the eyes of ones mother or ones lover, and neither of those seem particularly plausible right now. My mothers thoughts of me are consistently tempered by what she thought I was like, and why she thought I did what I did, and mostly she was wrong. And I find it unlikely for me to find a lover, at least not as I am now, as I am neither particularly attractive, (No, I have actually never been told to my face by any potential romantic interests that I am, but I consider myself to currently be at one of the worst points, attraction wise, of my life.) nor am I physically, emotionally or mentally healthy. The latter two, any potential lover will have to deal with; me and my mental issues are a package deal of course, and they are not of the small and simple kind either. I know that even with this alone, a lover would be hard to find, but it is mostly my prickly pickyness that truly ruins the game. I did have a boyfriend, but I fell out of love with him after about ten months, and it would probably have gone far faster had he not lived around six hundred kilometres away. I am glad that is over, and I have learnt a great many things, and most of those point towards the same point; the person will indeed be special if I truly, and I mean thoroughly, fall in love with them. I should say anyone is special when someone falls in love with them, or loves them at all, but I suspect the sort I am looking for is almost unrealistic as a prerequisite for a romantic partner. Yet I hope that I somehow will have enough luck to get them to me or me to them before either of us wither away of age. Why I talk about a lover is because I know that my world; my home, cannot be built by just me. A true friend might be enough, but I don’t have any of those, nor have I ever had any. In addition I feel it would be cruel to ask a friend to help build my world, when they might not see the full benefit of it. They might not even like it, and then we might as well never start at all.
What is my world like? Oh, dear, if I could explain that I would. I would, and I would write it down, I would write it down and when people read it, I would know who of these would help me with it. But I fear I cannot. Maybe one day, I do hope so, but hope is never more than that; a dream, a wish. And as my experience so begrudgingly tells me; be careful what you wish for; it will not be what you want when you get it.
But I hope to get somewhere on this dream of mine, somewhere, where I might at least glimpse it on the horison. Somewhere where I may at least know that it is something I actually wish for, where I might know if I am working in the right direction.
But first, health.
Ah, I try, I do, I really do try. But it is hard, and the world I currently live in is not accommodating at all, not even compared to places I lived before. Not even compared to where I practically burnt my self alive to avoid. This is unaccommodating in ways I had yet to experience before this year. I hope it will improve, and I hope that my focus will let me do what I intend to do, but one never knows what else life might throw before or into your wheels.
And a final note, for anyone interested in BJDs, I will, after I’ve used it a couple of times, write a review of Dollmore’s quilted MSD sized carrier bag, but as a general bag. I do not yet have an MSD doll, and I bought the bag because my child self (that would be my self of around 15 years of age) fell in love with it. And if I have the energy and the time, I might bring Draco outside, as it is now snow here too, and maybe take a few pictures. He looks quite lovely in his new boots.