Every time I try to venture onto a foreign writing ground, I get shot down in the nicest of ways.

Write what you know.

Stop trying to be someone else.

But that's the whole point.

I hate everything I see through my own eyes. So why can't I borrow yours? I know what you're thinking, too. And I'm not depressed. I don't want to kill myself. I just want something…new. I want to run blindly into some uncharted place, where no one knows me but I know everyone.

I want to waltz in public wearing a verdant brocade gown with a mask fit for Carnivale in Venice adorning my face. I want to escape this place filled with supine minds and tired bodies. Let me jump higher than ever. Let me run till I collapse. Leave me to myself and let me be.

Every time I go dancing where no music can be heard, someone has to ruin it for me. Don't point. Stop laughing. Shut up.

My problem is that I dream too much and that I expect the world to be okay with that. I was never prepared for them to tell me to grow up.

I still want to ride dragons and fight chimeras and hold court with the faeries. Growing up is bullshit and I don't know why people think it's so great. All growing up consists of is letting piece by piece of you die, till all you have is nothing but a useless shell. An armor fortified and strengthened so that nothing can pierce it. Now that you've got nothing left to protect.

Stop trying to bring me down. I don't know you at all and you cannot possibly claim that you know me. So when you tell me that I can't fly, I will not believe you anyway. I cannot help the way I live because I'm convinced that half the time it's not even me committing the actions.

I feel so often that this life is not mine. Everything is familiar but nothing feels natural or genuine. This painted life holds nothing true for me, and this sad reality is not – cannot – be mine.

So I do not write what I know because the material is either trivial or nonsensical, such as this. Can you put these thoughts together? Can you tell me who I am? No. You have no idea. That is not to say that I am deeply complex and my mind is an unfathomable entity. No, what I am telling you is that I am hidden. Lost, if you will.

I want to start anew so that I may keep track of my life, instead of forgetting everything. I want to become something else so that I may know who I am.