They said fairy tales don’t exist. But I believed in Cinderella ever since I was 5. They said good girls don’t puke. I tried it every time I was low. They said life is best if it’s kept simple. The bigger-than-me dreams weigh down my eyelashes every time I’m alone. As I watch my computer boot itself back to life once again, I silently kiss away the wishes riding on wings of impossibility. Watch life unfold through my eyes, and then you may understand what dreaming is like. Was I destined to be this way?? Or am I treading the wrong path now? All the roads look alike from where I stand. But my abstracted practicality refuses to follow these foolish notions of mine. The pragmatism strolls on till it hits upon walls and barriers, changing tracks, but never learning lessons. The same mistakes are committed and identical wounds incurred every time. I wonder how I manage to have so many random fights with not-so-random people all the time. I wonder how I can let my life go into nothingness and still fantasize about the rains and romance every day and night. I wonder why you still can’t quit smoking and yet tell me to change things that can surely be put up with. I wonder how I can forget things that I should remember and in turn feel sick remembering things that are best forgotten. I just need a hug and I know I’ll feel sorted