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Wanderlust Dreamer

United States

Youngest of six I grew up mostly traveling on the road since I was Twelve months old. Fell in love with writing stories of people every little girl would want to be, but as I grew older I write about those same people... wanting to be me.

Message from Writer

I write as an escape from reality, I have a good family a great life, but I long to be hiking up a mountain, traveling the world, or uncovering a murder mystery. My heart isn't somewhere else in the World, it's somewhere in a whole different World! I want to be an Author to give my readers the same chance, of escaping into that whole different World, without leaving the security of this one.

Part ONE: MyPolar Disorder

May 3, 2016


                                                                                                                                                                            DAY ONE
I know you... but you- don't know me. Am I ordinary? Nah. Extortionary? Still not quite there. Unordinary? ...I don't think it's safe to answer... at least not yet. I'm not more than ordinary but less. I would call myself some form or kind of ordinary, infected- most likely, or enhanced by a something that adds those two missing letters to me.
This is who I wished to be; this is who I wanted to be; this is who I have to be, and this is who I am. Ordinary with a twist and normal with an i. Different but the same; weak but strong; dead but alive. Opposites that fit in such a beautiful and chaotic way, it's like staring into the sun with your eyes stinging with pain. Though it can be beautiful I pay closer attention to the chaos I make. Strapping it down and containing it within the box-like space in my brain. It forcing me to wish that death would come but bringing me close enough to it to scare me insane. If you were to see the battles in my brain you would label me mentally insane. I cause let love, sadness, and pain come into my brain. They fight intensely to the death day by day with two losers and one winner every day. They never stop, never breathe, never take a break so I'm contently fighting with myself every day. Sometimes I surrender to gain painlessness and sometimes I fight to gain sanity. Some would call me messed up, sick, twisted. Others would call me an attention-seeker, troubled wrecks, a bipolar... as for I? Heh... I don't feel I fit under any of those labels... I feel I have something different, something more like MyPolar Disorder; a disorder of ME, MYSELF, and I. 



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