The good struggle while the evil laugh

One of my wildest fantasies is being a medieval princess living in a castle so big I could get lost in it, having handmaidens dress me in beautiful flowing gowns that accentuate my full, shapely breasts and curvy hips, after which I would frolick about in the royal gardens, pretending to ignore the declarations of love and sweet wooings of my dashing, gallant, chivalrous prince from a neighbouring kingdom, occasionally favouring him with a comely giggle or two.

Another of my wildest fantasies is crawling into a hole and dying.

But it seems that wild fantasies are not made to be realised, so here I am a struggling actress and sometimes blogger, who has bills to pay and people to impress and chores to do and still very much alive.

Which is well and good. It’s just that it gets a little tiresome at times. Especially when life keeps making demands of you. People make demands of you. And you give and give and give and nobody gives you anything back in return but you have to continue smiling and playing nice. And people make empty promises, shamelessly taking advantage of your trust and your kindness and your time.

Of course, it’s not always like that. There are truly good friends and loved ones. They’re always there to warm your heart when it gets too cold, knead your neck when the going gets tough, make you laugh when you feel like crying.

But friends and loved ones can’t shelter you 24/7 and pay your bills and fulfil your dreams. So out there you have to go each day. Put on your armour and fight the fight, continue to give and give and give, knowing that you can’t win the fight because you refuse to play the shameless, dirty game that everyone else is playing.

I think good people really suffer in the world.

Well, some call them good. Others call them gullible.

Does wanting to survive in this cold, cruel world mean that you have to be cold and cruel as well? Scheme and manipulate to get what you want, and then disappear from people’s lives after you’ve milked them for all they’re worth without giving them anything in return but empty promises?

It makes me scared. I don’t want to fight. I couldn’t win a battle which rules I don’t believe in.

It makes me wish I had been born evil.

The senseless melancholy post

Actually, I really love this new layout.

I must thank the creator of this blog skin for his great work. It soothes me and makes me dream of all things pure and beautiful. It turns me into a narcissist, visiting my own blog 20 times a day.

The downside is that it also makes me quite melancholic. But that’s probably due to the rainy background on the header, which was my own doing.

But it could also be said that this creation was a result of my already melancholic mood. My moods feed on each other.

My favourite colours have always been white and blue and I feel happy when I see white and blue things.

This melancholy and happiness confuse me. I am both at once.

I feel happy for the things I have now, for the small blessings I’m given on a daily basis.

But I feel trapped.

I have fallen into an abandoned manhole and the world passes by above me. I look up and I see the sun replaced by the moon, replaced by the sun, replaced by the moon, in the endless, unrelenting cycle of time.

I can’t climb out without help. But nobody sees me.

I can’t cry out because my voice was lost in the fall.

I try everything I can. Nothing. I wait and I watch.

I watch people go past above me, each caught up in his own world of joys, sorrows, challenges, triumphs.

I feel lucky to be sheltered from the trials of life.

Over time, I make my own life in the manhole. I get comfortable. I grow lazy.

The world outside becomes a foreign, scary place.

People say that being alive is the greatest blessing.

I say it depends on where you are.

And who you are.