Saturday, February 08, 2003

I have always wanted to be something other than what I am. I remember clearly, as a child I would make up stories in my mind and act them out, being the beautiful princess or the wise peasant girl, whatever character I could come up with that I would rather be, than myself, in any situation instead of in my mother's garden with no playmates. I have wondered if this indicates some subconscious dissatisfaction with myself and my life, but surely six or seven is too young to even have such a concept? Even now, when I read a particularly good fiction book, I wish myself to be one of those characters, with interesting things happening, in interesting places which exist, in truth, only in the minds of children. Life has largely been a big disappointment to me. I was never swept off my feet by a tall handsome stranger, I've never even seen a palace or met a princess, and despite my exhaustive efforts I have never shown the slightest hint of magical or psychic abilities. I have wanted so many things so badly, and none have come to pass. Is everyone so disappointed upon growing up? Is everyone shocked by the realisation that fiction truely is fiction and will never be otherwise? How can everyone claim to be happy, when all the things they wish would happen, never do?

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