Bipolar Diary: Off to Neverland

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I held an old crusty book in my hand.
Some pages were torn, some were missing.
But nevertheless, I know it was a good fairy tale story.
An array of hues of melodies and poetry.
A place good enough to escape too.
Good enough to run too.
To run just like I always do...

My thoughts have been far lately.
Far, as in miles away from where I am.
Miles away from reality, in fact.
It doesn't dwell in the present long enough, but dances in tomorrow's tune.
Just like reading a book yet imagining the next chapters.
Along with that, are melancholic hazy dreams that I wished were my reality.
For the reason that there are times when dreams are friendlier than what is real.

I really hate "what if's"
But somehow, it has been my means of surviving.
My mind has been filled with questions like,
"What if I were somewhere else."
"What if every day is an adventure."
"What if I were someone special."
"What if pigs can fly or flowers can sing."
"What if Peterpan and Captain Hook have a tea party with the hatter."
"What if Tinkerbell and a smiling cat sing a song."
"What if I was the queen and the bloody-big-head was my maid"
"What if I, Wendy, and Alice have a slumber party at the white queen's castle."
"What if I never get bored."
"What if...What if....
Thinking about "what if's" as my consciousness fades away to a world of my own.
A world where everything comes true.
Just like a fairy tale;
Where I am love;
Where I feel so alive;
Where I have more than a hundred good reason to ever wake up in the morning;
Where my reason to live is not just to exist.
Not just to exist but to live, to be me.
To breathe not just for the sake of breathing;
but to celebrate "me".

With every waking memory that I had,
I have nothing to look forward to but little insignificant things.
I look forward to things that do even help me make a mark.
And I wish I could just dream away...
But fairytales are only for kids and dreams don't always come true.
Maturity means facing the truth.
And even if reality hurts, it's still the place where I have to live.
Sometimes I ask myself, "What's the use?"
Everything is still the same and I'm tired of doing nothing.
Just like reading the same page of a book over and over again.
But still, I wait; for maybe tomorrow start a new chapter.