Life of fiction.

I’ve also been thinking about life. I want to go places and do things. Today, the farthest I got was Greece, through the heart of Lena in Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. What am I doing in my life that will make a difference in everyone else’s?

My life doesn’t feel any different or extraordinary. But I want it to be. Today has been a day of living through fictional characters, wishing that I could fall in love like they have, wishing I had the adventures that they have, hoping that somehow the life they’ve found is not just a fairy tale. It seems so funny to dream of these things, to desire the life of fiction. But some weird shadows of insignificance and unsatisfactory feelings are creeping into my heart and I can’t seem to find enough satisfaction to push them away. Today is a somber day. A weird day. I’ve written too much and thought so little. I’ve dreamt too much and wished even more. And I think I’d like to go back to reading my book, Sam’s Letters To Jennifer.

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