bounded by reality...

i miss those moments when a random thought comes into my mind and suddenly i begin to write those thoughts on paper...

i miss the people and the events that inspires me to write a poem or an entry that describes what i feel about them...

i miss having my own time just to ponder on what things to write on my  journal about random things that i see...

i miss sipping my instant coffee and staring into my monitor hoping that a good line would just pop into my mind for the entry that i'm writing...

i miss spending my time revising my almost 4-year old "novel" that i think would never have the chance to be finished...

i miss imagining myself to be writing my own books and making a fortune out of it...

i miss sitting on my dorm bed with only the light coming from my study table to help me organize my thoughts...

i miss checking out my word bank just to find the perfect word for the things that i'm feeling...

i miss the feeling of going insane once i look back to those entries that i've written that i found so foolish and corny...

i miss the writer in me, if i can be called a writer...even though i'm not good enough...

i miss expressing myself in black in white rather that empty words...

i miss the power that the pen and paper gives to me whenever i tell the words that i can't say in reality...

i miss the feel of the pen in my hands, the sound of paper tearing and the smell of ink... 

i guess i just miss the times when i can write whenever i can, wherever i can and whatever i can until my eyes surrender and my hands stop typing furiously in the keyboard and my head starts touching the pillows in my bed...

things change...people do...priorities are more important but sometimes your priorities in life may not be the ones that can make you happy but you'll have to deal with it...

life goes on, the world will; it won't stop once you stop being happy, once you stop caring...maybe someday, when i've already proven something, i can continue the things that once made me happy...

the things that once made me dream of worlds that not everyone can see...a world that took me to different dimensions just being equipped with simple words that i have in me...

a world that made me question even my very own existence...a world where i can express the things that i would want to be given the chance...

my own world of make believe where i can be who i want to be...'coz no one can live in a perfect real world...

but i still...i choose to be happy even if the pen and paper are not with me...