i am the working hands of someone elses dream.

i feel as if i'm not living the life i was made to live. i feel that i'm living insignificantly.

this is where i need to live, what i'm supposed to eat, where i have to work. i don't understand what it is that i want. if you set me free i wouldn't know where to wander first. but i can't help this constant feeling that i'm trapped, or off course. i dream about the same thing every night. i dream that i'm working. i dream that i'm lost.

my life improved, but i don't understand why i wake up in the morning not very excited for my day to begin. i dread my days of having to work, but while i'm off of work all i can think is that the good times i am having are limited, and my life will go back to the routine of being dedicated solely to a work schedule. i feel that i'm renting my body to my job for 13 dollars an hour, which would be entirely fine, except my mind refuses to comply. i feel trapped there in my edit bay. i feel trapped writing down my predictable work schedule for a week that hasn't come. i feel trapped knowing that it can only get worse when i finally enroll in school, and then my mind and body will be for rent constantly, and i'll be trapped inside a shell that does only what it has to do. we accept our work schedules being 5 days a week. we consider two days away to be a blessing, but i seem to be the only one who minds that the ratio of work to living is 5:2.

i'm a slave to the ring of my telephone, and the sound of my alarm.
thoughts of my inevitably monotonous future don't leave me starry eyed.

a million things have happened, and i'm not sure i've had the time to take it all in, or much less stop to smell the flowers. for one, barack obama and i both landed an amazing new job on election day. i'm very inspired, and honored to witness history. i am lucky to live through this time, and grateful to be free .

forget about your house of cards.

funny, i've tried to write a few other times this week, and nothing would come from my fingers. it seems as though i'm only capable of writing on nights such as these, where i feel temporarily lost. maybe it's solely because it's a holiday that we failed to acknowledge, although halloween never was held in such high regards to me either way. the holiday season has always held disappointments, and i'm not sure how much more disappointments i could manage.

i'm in such a strange head space at times, mostly at times when i've been left alone. i tried to write when i felt happy this week, but it didn't feel right. how backwards am i; i choose to write only when i'm unhappy. what unfair memories i'm making for myself by digging myself into a hole that will allow me to look back at myself 5 years from now to rediscover who i was, only to find baggage. and speaking of baggage, have i mentioned that i've held everyone elses baggage and cannot manage to acknowledge my own? since when do your burdens become my baggage? it's terribly heavy and none of my belongings are in it.

1:00 a.m.

4 sleepless nights have finally caught up with me. one negative mention and my mind stirs to a point where i can't manage to even attempt sleeping tonight. i crawled out of bed and onto the floor just so the embarrassment subsides. i'm embarrassed that i embarrass myself in front of you. and moreso, i'm embarrassed that i have issues, or brain obstacles, if you will. but i get so miserable when i'm disapproved of, and even worse, when i'm disapproved of and left to stew for the next 8 hours while you sleep peacefully.

my thoughts would simplify if you could speak your thoughts out loud more often. i can't function trying to guess whether i've made you frown or smile. and whether it happens to be a frown or a smile that i've caused i would like to know what i've done. as soon as i've done it. because i'm a terrible guesser, and my assumptions can be pessimistic. that would explain why i constantly ask so many questions. if i've had the notion that i've made you happy, or just the opposite, me being unsure is not enough for you; it seems you always find room to add suspense and mystery to my simple inquisitions. you leave too many unanswered questions for my mind to wrap itself around. at times you tiptoe around my questions, telling me what you think i want to hear, or saying nothing at all. so i pry. and you hide it further. and i pry further. and you hide deeper. and soon i'm losing my mind over the simple question that i've asked you of whether you'd like toast or cereal for breakfast.

maybe you don't realize it at all, or maybe you utilize it to teach me a lesson. maybe neither. it's not going to teach me a lesson. i'm far too stubborn, and entirely too lost in my own head to be able to attempt to be lost in yours as well. my thoughts are not foreign territory like yours are to me. of all the things that i've tried to change for you, i wish you'd try to do this for me. you've taught me so much, and brought me so far out of my comfort zone that i've almost forgotten what most of my comfort zone even looked like, but it appears i cannot do the same for you. i want us both to try. i'll never stop trying, but i just need you to start.

it's too late at night to reflect and discover if i'm being unreasonable. so for this moment, i mean every word although i might not in the morning. but these feelings are familiar, so i might not be acting as brash as i think.

i suppose i'm finally getting a clear idea of who and what i truly want in my life. my choices are growing smaller day by day. i don't feel that it's intentional. maybe only natural selection, or bluntly, realism. and i cannot stand the word realism. i believe realism is what people feel they're obligated to adapt to. i believe realism is an excuse that people make when they're too afraid to dream anymore. otherwise, i do believe that being realistic is completely necessary, because one cannot simply dream of crossing the streets of new york blindfolded without being struck by a car. i've just become more accepting with being told that i dream too often, and have too much heart. i tell myself that that's perfectly fine, because mostly the person telling me that never dreams at all, and has too little heart. i suppose it can make me naive, or make me vulnerable to hurt and rejection, but i've never thought it wasn't worth it. i cannot believe the actions of some because i can't fathom doing anything at all without considering the feelings of another.

no, the world cannot be made up entirely of dreamers. our structures would fail, and we would form no concrete plans without a realist to suddenly bring us back down to earth, but the world does need more of us. i would much rather encounter a dreamer who knew theycould surely be mistaken, instead of a realist who is too blind to see they're wrong.

six.

i've most certainly been slacking on writing this past week, but i can safely say it's all been for the better since my boyfriend and i have both found jobs. i've just added about 30% more meaning to my life, and 70% more happiness. and on the topic of happiness, my beautiful mommy tagged me to name six things that make me happy. i'll admit that i tend to write more about my downfalls rather than my uprisings, but i think my life mostly has a balance of both.

Six things that make me happy:

1. peeking into a warm oven and discovering that what's inside is coming along beautifully.
   
2. when people risk being around my frowns because they want to make me smile.
   
3. reading in the bathtub. i have enough candles to light the city, and although my book always comes back a little soggy, the crinkled pages are just a sign of love.
   
4. my lover. i can dance around the room with bedhead to my favorite song and he still loves me. no matter what.
   
5. music. i sincerely would be shriveled up dead somewhere without it.
   
6. my teddy. (see image)

I would pass this on to six other bloggers like i was told, but as i don't have any readers, the only person i could possibly tag is my boyfriend. and although i'm curious about what his answers would be, i simply don't know if i can sign him up to do it.

i should really be enjoying not having the responsibility of working right now, but it seems to be the opposite as i feel completely worthless, sitting here. i could wake up at 4 in the evening and would still accomplish as much as i would by waking up at 7 a.m. nothing needs me now. and without money, i suppose i can't afford to need anything myself. i want to wake up earlier but all it would be is more time to sort out nothings, and clean nothings, and eat nothings.

i suppose more than anything, i hate to assume that only screens can save us from boredom. television screens, computer screens, telephone screens. i simply cannot stand to watch television anymore. there are a few shows i designate my time to, but otherwise i really can't stand its prescence. something about televisions make me think only of the movie requiem for a dream. and the computer doesn't keep my attention for long. i feel worthless when i watch television because i feel that my company alone is not enough to entertain. i truly wish the power would shut off. i certainly have enough candles to combat the darkness, and it would force us to pursue other things, such as each other.