4-4-16 Life as a dreamer

Idk if it’s just me but I always overthink a series of numbers put together, for example today’s date, because 4 x 4 is 16 and how cool is that. In fact I overthink just about everything nowadays, from poptarts to my existence. Yeah, i’m extreme like that. No but honestly, do people consider pop tarts a dessert or like a fancier biscuit-y thing like an oreo?

I think by now it’s safe to say that Im an avid day dreamer and procrastinator. It’s quite sad (or mature and rational, which also means sad and boring to me) that I’ve been day dreaming waaay lesser as I’ve grown up. As a kid, before I actually went to sleep, i.e the time period during which I’m lying down, staring at the ceiling, trying to keep my eyes shut and waiting for my subconscious mind to kick that racing, overthinking mind right out of the door, I used to make up all sorts of imaginary scenarios like going for candle light dinners with my crush or being given some sort of scholarship because I was a complete genius and the world depended on me for it’s survival through the apocalypse (I was ten so I didn’t really imagine realistic scenarios). Anyway, so I loved those times because it substituted the bed time stories which I was not told after age 6 and also, I had this belief that the world was a series of dreams. By that I mean, I was living in someone else’s dreams and someone else was living in my dream and it goes on and on. I felt that if I dreamed about nice things about me, then maybe in a parallel universe, I would be having the best time ever. I also wondered if in that parallel universe, whatever I considered to be the best time ever was actually not so good for (because maybe that planet had different rules for happiness?) and this paradox took up like a whole day of thinking, which in the world of an over thinker, is far too long.

Any way, so today I was sick and I bunked school and went back to bed (that feeling is more satisfying than a warm hug when you’re pms-y)  and I day dreamed again, after years. At first I almost felt judged and embarrassed and felt I was being super weird but then I realised that it was super therapeutic. I wondered if this was my display of the ostrich- syndrome, if I was the ostrich burying head under the blankets instead of dry soil, hiding myself from my imperfect life. But then I immediately willed myself to stop wondering because I like being happy. Idk if this means I’m hiding away from my feelings but oh well, aren’t I addressing my feelings here?

I’m really hungry now, so I’ll leave feeling confused and I’ll probably write more on my confusion for the next time.

Byeee!(super enthusiastic because first time)



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