Staring at the ceiling.

I began to think that I like writing more than I realized. Writing helps me express myself on paper. I love writing. I think i should be an author(oblivious fact). Why do I end up writing stories-Because I like creating an entire new dimension and imagining myself in it. Writing helps me create a world that I would like to be in and sometimes helps me believe that, those worlds are my reality. When I write, I usually describe the character as myself…and I add in the traits that I would like to have-like fighting. I would describe my character/me as strong(but sometimes really vulnerable), bad ass, proud, one who tends to make quite an impression on others, kind and easy conversationalist. I desperately wish that, I wake up from this horrendous nightmare that we claim to be life and live out ACTUAL lives. I’m sure by this time you learned a couple of things. Firstly, I am extremely unsatisfied with certain parts of my life. Secondly, I’m highly delusional. Thirdly, I have chemical imbalances. If guessed any one of them, give yourself a pat on the back. If you didn’t, well now you know. Honestly when you talk to me for the first time, you would know nothing. But if you really know me,(yes I’m talking to my dear friends out there), you would know that I have these really weird mood swings. But when I’m not PMSing or whatever, I’m actually pretty awesome. I won’t deny it, I have A LOT of friends. I like talking to people. But only certain people put up with my crap. I really owe it to them. Sorry for being such a bitch you guys. I’m writing down all of this because Sam says blogging will make me feel better. If theres anyone out there whos reading this, and feels the same way, do what i did. Write. It makes you feel better. So that’s all for now.