I'll build my world out of dreams and my heart will be made of ink.

If life were made of tiny pieces of our dreams I could imagine something wonderful. I could imagine me the way I wish I would look or change where I come from with a change of whim. I think a dream world is someplace I'd like better than here. Because in my world, I'd be pretty and I'd be smart. Then again, there are a million people right now wishing the same thing aren't there?

What I used to do to slide into someone elses shoes for a while was read. I'd read and I'd fly out of my body and into the characters. Now I pace. I have music in my ears and I run and I dance and I smile like I never do when I'm in my own world.

How sad is it that I'm more at home in a tragic love story than my own home? In my room I have books every where. On my cluttered desk, all over the book self next to my bed, under my bed, under my desk, in the bathroom, everywhere. Why? Because, for me the words that are printed in those yellow-white pages are the only thing that I can find myself calling home.

I am not pretty, so I hide in the head of pretty main characters because in every damn book ever written no matter what the girl is pretty. I am not always smart, so I hide in a college made of words or the paper halls of a high school. I want everything I can't have. Sure my wants and the things I get upset over are superficial and may not matter but show me one person who doesn't.

I don't want the outside world- that is a lie. I'd give my heart for someone I can relate to around here. But no what is there here except sports freaks and money obsessed bastards. No one but me lives in my world made of dreams and ink. No one and even though I have friends I can't bring myself to believe they'll be there.

A person found out that I cut last summer and do you know what she told me? Our conversation went something like:

M: Oh my god, Amanda you didn't! *laughs*

A: What are you talking about?

M: The stuff on your arm, genius. *laughs again* That's so cool.

A: .... *sigh* Just don't tell anyone okay?

M: Yeah yeah whatever. *giggle* This is so awesome! You're such an emo!

The first thought that passed through my mind at that was "What the fuck is wrong with you?" and then I realized that if she was someone who gave a shit she wouldn't have thought it was cool. I nearly cried in the bathroom when I realized one of my closest friends didn't give a shit. Then I got over it and her. She talked about MCR and said that she was dating Gerard then she was dating Frank (which is just disturbing). And how they had saved her life too. I almost laughed at THAT one. M has never done anything but pretend and pretend. She was never in an danger of suicide I know. She's never done any of the things she says she has.

I'd rather live with my heart of ink and world of dreams and pretend in my head then throw my weight around claiming to be better than I am. But even saying that makes me a hypocrite doesn't it?