Old Writing

There is a passion inside, this burning desire that drives me, that pushes me to the edge of insanity. It’s a parallel dimension where absurd seems real - although logically. There the chaos inside me is put to rest and the illogical can be free. It's a world where nothing is what it seems yet everything can be taken at face value. Even the most absurd dreams can not begin to compare to this realm of real make belief. Where love it too weak of a term, 3 dimensional is too flat and forever too short. It’s a surreal reality where time impedes nothing and mistakes are soon forgotten. I yearn to go there and free myself from what I have perceived to be real my whole existence. Enticed by the lack of judgment, the mysteries in curiosity, I dwell upon this world. A world so egotistical where others feelings can be made stagnant for periods of time in which they are not required, only to be resumed from where it was left. I want to experience these fleeting emotions, capture their essence and explore their consequences, only to finally return here to my safe haven. The place i call my home, no matter the mundane routine one must follow. A constant movement from one world to the other therefore enjoying both the structure and the chaos, the dull and the bright, the right and the wrong, the logical and the illogical - but alas, which world is more real to me?