Untitled.docx

I question everything, you know. I can't help but wonder what my life will be, what my life was, and how my life is. What's going on with me? Since when have I been so curious about things like these? I think I can remember when... It happened when I was walking home one day from elementary school. I was a few blocks from home... I remember I was in the fourth grade at that time. It was a sunny day; it could've been spring time because there were no discarded autumn coloured leaves or snow on the ground. I had a heavy bag, you know, the kind that you swung over your shoulder, and it banged against your thigh as you walked. I was shorter than most, so I had to make a few adjustments to it. I really hated that bag and the only reason I got it was because the strap of my old one had torn a bit. 

 I think I'm getting slightly off topic, anyways, I distinctly remember looking up at the sky and thinking "What if this is just a big video game?" 

 I liked video games... I still do. It's a sort of escapism for me, you know? Kind of like black outs but instead of darkness, it'd be filled with creatures, protagonists and antagonists. It'd be pretty cool if this was a big video game where I was controlled by someone for my actions. I'd become a constant tattler though, always saying how it wasn't my fault, it was theirs. People get annoyed with tattlers, don't they? I wouldn't want to annoy anyone except myself. 

 There's so much I want to add in this text. So many things that I want to say with no particular order. Ever get that feeling that you were meant to do something big with your life? It most prominent in children; they always have the biggest dreams. I wonder what I dreamt of being when I was a kid. Oh yeah, I remember, a veterinarian. The only real reason I wanted to be a vet was because I had a dog and I associated my love for him to a what a veterinarian does. Somehow, just loving my dog wasn't enough for me to become what I wanted. I don't hate myself for not going through with it, I'm content with the little life I have now. The only thing I didn't know was that reality was something that I could fluctuate with the power of my mind. I did know, however, that it involved books and years of studying non stop. 

 Reality is something I constantly discard when I'm alone. I like to disassociate myself, and I think you're acting the best when you're daydreaming. It means that you just don't want to deal with all kinds of stuff. Reality is always shifting from one spot to the next, and I could never really keep up with it. I couldn't control it because I was too indecisive all the time. 

 That's it, I'm just too much of an indecisive person. 

Even now... Some people would assume I'm enjoying the silence of nature as I'm hard at work on my laptop. I'm not. I'm just typing what comes to mind. I'm alone right now, and who knows if I'm actually telling the truth about me sitting on a bench in the park or not. As of now, reality is in the background, constantly shifting from one task to the next... But I'm just pushed out of it. Pacing myself is what I'd like to call it, but the fact is that I'm just really lazy. 

 I'm supposed to be writing an essay right now, and I'm supposed to hand it into my professor at noon. It's 11:27 right now, and I have yet to do much. At least I wrote what's on my mind, and it was a fond memory now that I think back to it, except for that stupid bag. 

 I don't like dealing with things, things like my broken bag. I could've fix it, I really could've. It wasn't that big of a tear, but it was still a bother of some kind. I could've kept things the way I liked them but I didn't like that decision weighing down on my mind. I have better things to do with my time, so I went and got a new one which was a stupid idea. It just... Didn't fit right. Jeez, I hate making decisions, I always feel like I'm making the wrong one. 

 Now, I have to come up with my essay title and save it as that before I forget. I have too many documents called "Untitled."