I remember when I was about 7 or so, I received an award for my writing. It had a picture of an elephant on it. I wrote stories, I wrote in my journal about important things like, what time I had woken up, how much I loved my journal, and drew pictures of my swingset. It was a little hand wrapped around a pencil, intently capturing the world.
The world seems a lot larger tonight. I look down at my hands as they type, they're small, but a woman's hands. The nails are long, like my Mom never let me grow, and the time I wake up is dependent on what time I work at. I write, still. Volume #7 of my journal is almost done, and this time there are no pictures. Maybe thats a bad thing, maybe not.
And maybe it's because everytime I watch a movie with Julia Roberts in it I get to thinking - or maybe it's because I'm spending more time by myself than I used to. Either way, the thoughts are here tonight.
See, sometimes I feel like I'm just doing what I'm supposed to. I'm just writing about the world that everybody sees at this stage. I'm in love, I'm working, I'm ... and then it stops. Even my dreams of getting outside the box are nothing new. I could write about that and still be "one of those". I want a dream. Just for me. Something nobody has thought of before. I want to be unique, but then again do I? Because to be truly unique doesn't mean you don't shave your armpits and you travel to Italy on a whim - it's to be something that the rest of the world shuns because your not the right kind of unique.
But then I realize that I've already found it. Maybe my dreams are not all new, but what is. The combination, the texture that my life creates is not reproducible. HE made sure of that. Maybe this sounds cocky, but I don't think I would mind watching a movie of my life. I think I might be surprised at how blase and original it is. Besides, with the right lighting and put to music, anything can look like a Cannes Film Festival winner.