Sometimes I talk.

I was always a strange kid, and it’s not the first time I have stopped to realize this, with a huge age gap between my sister and I, we were always in different phases.

I enjoyed destroying barbies and playing with my neighbors and rolling around in grass while my sister enjoyed ballet and painting.

I remember when in younger years I was always independent, I kept myself company and stayed to myself, I loved it when I was home alone because it gave me a chance to be silly. I would talk and make up scenes from movies, sing as loud as I can, dress up in my mothers heels and clothes and walk around like I run the place. I would pretend I was at a restaurant and serve myself water in the wine glasses and the waiter that was me, the cashier was me, the snobby lady who was always upset and unsatisfied was me as well. I played all my creations. I ran a one-woman show. I imagined next to myself with cartoon and t.v show characters and fighting there adventures next to them.

Only by my self though, I suppose I was scared of being judged by others, I was always a shy kid growing up and to this day I still am, I am not out-going and wild.

I still talk to myself, I take a voice recorder and I record my thoughts, I try to piece everything together as it is when I feel troubled. I enjoy the feeling of isolation.

My backyard in the summer has bushes and trees growing and a small up hill, I would climb up there with a stick and pretend it was a sword, and I was traveling through a jungle to find exotic plants and animals, when I would go bike riding I’d find a small stick and pretend that it was a magic wand and the bike was my broom stick or I was on some giant race track and I was that bad ass chick that could kick any-guys ass.

Those are memories to me worth keeping all.

Sometimes, it makes me wish I was younger again when things felt so uncomplicated, I always lay in bed and think that maybe all this was just a dream, everything that has happend was all a dream and I am really just four years old still that I had fallen into some kind of coma or deep sleep from falling off my tire swing or my bike and when I wake up I will see my small hands and feet and all I can say is “I just had the most strange dream ever, I was older and in high school”

 

 

Happy readings.

Comment/follow/reblog/

~Marz

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Sometimes I talk.

2 thoughts on “Sometimes I talk.

  1. Love your blog! I was pretty shy when I was little too… I remember keeping this little doll in my purse forever, I think it was a carebear, a very small one… anyway, I would pretend it was my baby, hidden in my purse, and I had to take care of it. Still, I am 35 years old and I go to bed and use my imagination to create my dreams for the night…

    Like

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