I find myself sitting, staring sometimes. Looking into a picture. Imagining myself in that world, with that person, in that place. Sometimes imagining myself AS that person. Whatever the case may be. And I can make it feel so real, make that world be so honest in my head. Why can’t I have that feeling in my own life? Why can’t I be as happy in person as I am in my imagination? Why can’t I navigate the real world as well as I can navigate the endless amount of fake ones?
All questions that’ll never be answered, I guess. After all, how do you answer the ramblings of a madman?
27. Chaotic Neutral INFP, techie, Blizzard gamer. Possibly a shitposting robot. Anti-authority, anti-fascist, far-left radical.