[no name]

Sometimes... sometimes you just want to write something. Anything. It doesn't matter what. Mostly, you wish it's something of substance. Something that means something. Something that might turn into something. Sometime.

But sometimes it's nice to just write. Just concentrate on making sentances. Long ones, filled with words you have to look up just to make sure you've both spelled and used right. Or short ones. Two words. Just because they're short, doesn't mean they don't have meaning.

Writing in itself can be quite rewarding. An escape, of sorts. When you write, you have to think about what you're writing. And then you automatically forget everything else, because you become entranced with the task of making sense. And making it sound beautiful.

It's no wonder writing is meant to be therapeutic (I had to look that up). Imagine all the things you can have, if you just write them. A healthy imagination and a blank page, and the world is at your feet. Fair enough, a world that only exists in those few (or many) lines you write. But still; isn't it better to have a fantasy, however fleeting, than a harsh reality you can't handle?

Maybe you'll say I'm avoiding reality. So what if I am? Sometimes, it's good to get away from reality. Reality can be a bitch. In reality, you have little say over how things go. You can try, you can succeed from time to time. But in most cases, reality overrules you. Reality wins. Reality makes the rules, you just have to obey.

That's what's so wonderful about fantasy. Fantasies live by your rules.
So you can't really do magic.
In fantasies you can.

So you're not skinny and beautiful like Keira Knightly.
In fantasies you can be. Or you don't have to be.

So he doesn't look your way.
In fantasies he can. And he will. And a whole lot more.

The only thing stopping you is... well, you.