How often I am alone, but seldom lonely. When I am left with my reveries, I cannot help to think of my blessed purpose to play a role of an inventive strength that I muster up from creative dreaming. Because it's imagination that keeps my dreamy head above my realist heart, and because I'm learning of my passions and joys as each person enters and leaves in attempts to find their own, I am at ease and awfully full of reflection. There is something for someone, but I don't just want anything, and I don't think I can handle everything, so I will be here, waiting for something.
I want to see and feel the world while living in the world. Glorifying my own will only hinder such an attempt, so I stand at an unhappy yet obedient halt. All this, while I have yet to leave the abundant surroundings of water and pre-packaged meals.
I have never thirst or craved so much in my life.
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