I am tripping on emotions, falling into holes carved by experiences. Half the time I live in the questionable shelter of my own mind. The other half is spent staring at a screen, into virtual reality. Nothing is real, I am certain of that. But it feels like it is. Because I resonate with the over analysed words that gracefully fall from the make up perfected mouths of actors, yet they still make me cry.

Because I am searching, searching for the power to become numb. I open up when I hear them talk. I fall headfirst into their stories and I wish that could be me. Not just when it’s Christmas and he tells her he loves her, but when she sits by herself and cries untill she can no more. Because he’s broken her heart and she knew it all along. So did I.

I am not living. I am not witnessing the great things happen, I am not there in flesh when the fireworks start and we come together. But do I really want to be?

I can so easily live vicariously through the fabricated land of tv and I can so easily see myself in them, that I have forgotten what it’s like to actually be alive. And maybe someday when I’m old I’ll hate myself for not “getting out there” or maybe I’ll remember the tears in my eyes when he finally kissed him, maybe I’ll remember the thumping of my heart and the clenching of my fists from that time my favourite character died.

So in short, I enjoy being a socially awkward nerd who never leaves the house. Maybe that’s because every time I have left the house, I’ve wished I hadn’t.-H

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