Sometimes I don’t think I was meant for this world. I’m 28 and I still believe in magic. I wish I didn’t. Having no hope would probably be easier. But as long as music, art, fashion and the likes exist, I have hope that things will be better.
I have to admit. Things are looking pretty grim though. With World War 3 around the corner, I worry I won’t have a chance to accomplish all of my dreams.
I worry I’m not real sometimes. Like, I’m make believe.
I want to be this larger than life, rock star character who wears a cheetah coat and charcoal eyeliner. I want people to think I’m magic. Because I am.
Maybe that’s the mania talking.
But I just want to spread a little goodness everywhere I go. Because god knows this world is horrible enough.
When I die…I want to leave behind a legacy.
Fin.