What world am I living in? This is a question I find myself asking himself every day. My mind races between scene to scene, rarely finding itself in the present. This is the product of my childhood. Until third grade I had no friends. My parents pushed me to play outdoors, and so I did.

For years I would play with my brother and his friend, my neighbor, but they were three years older than myself. They had no interest in the games that I wanted to play. I learned this quickly, and decided to play on my own accord.

One of my favorite sagas as a child was Star Wars, and my brother and neighbor wanted nothing to do with it. Because of this, I found myself playing with toy lightsabers on my own. Deflecting fake lasers and cutting through fake robots was something that happened on a daily basis. I was happy alone, and the solitude that I found as a child shaped me into who I am today.

Today, I wonder who I am. Day to day I feel like I am playing different characters. I walk from my dorm room to my classes and I think of so many scenarios only found in fiction. “What if this tree fell down after me, maybe an earthquake hits?” “How would I escape this classroom if it were to get surrounded by vampires?” These scenarios seem childish, and perhaps they are, but they are what I love.

I love fiction. I live for fiction. This desire for the untrue leads my expectations to fall short on a day to day basis. Why is this?

Because life is boring.

We live the monotonous life of crumbs to the bigger picture of life, and the bigger picture is a canvas that nobody understands. I cannot stand to think of my own problems, and I would rather deal with the problems of a fictitious character that I have created. Why deal with the problems of homework when I can dream about escaping from vampires outside of my classroom?

These are the stupid thoughts that go through my head, but I love them. They are ecstasy. As a writer, I love to find myself lost in the worlds that I create, and I would much rather stay lost in a fictitious world than live the rest of my life in this one. Maybe I am crazy, but maybe my creativity will change others. Time will tell in the end.

My biggest fear, honestly, is that i have been lying to others. For a long while I have believed that I am adaptable to many, many circumstances. I have friends that are rich and I have friends that are poor. I have friends that are outgoing and friends that are outgoing. I thought that my personality was a shapeshifter, but maybe I am just a liar. I sure hope not, but my mind always begs the question.

I spend so little time in the "now" that I truly do wonder what my motives are. Sometimes I will speak with someone and say to myself, "Wow, that would make good dialogue in a scene." That is not how a person should live, but living on my own for so long, I have to create my own conflict within my life. I have to create scenes to keep it interesting. Maybe this is the passionate screenwriter within me, and maybe I should try to examine why I think the way that I do, but for now, this seems to be working.