Hello peeps :)
Just random stuff, once again.
That's why this is called random Luna :)
Anyway. I just came back from rehearsal (I play french horn in a wind orchestra), walking, at 12 a.m., just like last friday, and I realised that this one-mile-walk, is something that I really enjoy on a friday night :)
Just some time alone, being my weird anti social self, watching the slightly drunk people riding past on their bikes.
I am a person who likes to make friends in real life, of course, but... fictional people will always be better.
My grandma told me today that "I have got to come out of my own world, and start living in reality"
But the truth is, I don't know if I can.
Fiction is addicting.
The possibility of creating your own world, your own friends, who will never, ever hurt you, except when you want them to, and then only to make it more realistic.
The possibility of living your life like you want to, with the people of your real life, only slightly adapted, to let them fit in like you want them to.
The possibility of living your dreams, when sitting on the roof, staring at the stars at 2 a.m.
The possibility of finding true love, while sitting on a swing under that old oak tree in your back yard.
The possibility of having the friends you always wanted, when staring at the opposite wall in the bathroom.
Fiction, imagination, is endless.
Endless and addicting.
And:
Every addiction is dangerous when taken too far.
One dies, when having too much drugs.
One becomes fat, when having too much chocolate.
And
If you have too little reality in your head, you get lost in your own world.
It will turn against you.
Trap you like a labyrinth, without you even noticing.
And it will be hard, finding your way back.
Sometimes,
I think I have troubles finding my way back.
Maybe you enjoyed reading my thoughts, maybe you didn't.
I don't really mind much.
Read if you want to, and if you don't, then don't.
Love, Luna