Some travellers carries their bagage as if it was their most valued friend,
others like it was garbage not worth givin' a second tought if it disappeared.

I'm trying to have my bagage somewhere in the middle, but sometimes I value it more, and sometimes less, depending on what's inside at the time of course.

Several days have passed when my bagage in the brain was more treasured than the reality around me, just because the imaginary was more pleasing to spend time in. The reality is harsh
and sometimes cruel. And when it is, the possibility to flee into something unreal and beautiful and the way you want it to be can be such a relief.

It's just like dreams, the only difference is that you can't REALLY choose what to dream during the night, and in daytime you can.

I'm not unhappy with my real life though. It has been more pleasing than I deserve, it feels. Not just because of my family and friends, the boys and stuff like that. Schoolwork, luck, events, never any real scares, or scars for that matter (..except on the surface, and a few in the heart, but that's just part of life.)

Do I really deserve to have it this good, with my moral failures, me not knowing what I want in whatever subject/object it might matter. I hope I do, *knock on wood* because else something will happen that won't be that good, in a few years, and be sure I tell the truth when I say I want to satisfy myself and others with my way of life.