Fingers lightly gripped the wood pencil that was rested on a blank piece of paper. I wanted to write, I wanted to be somebody, to be able to inspire people with my words, make people want to see the world through my eyes.

Sadly though It seemed like I could never do this. No matter what I wrote it never seemed right, it never seemed like it was coming from me, almost like I was trying to hard.

I sighed a bit before placing my pencil down on the crinkly paper, inhaling deeply from the disappointment I was feeling at the moment while I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the back of my wood chair.

I want to become a writer, I want to inspire people I want to tell a story through paper and pencil, I want people to think how something so amazing came from a clutter of words. Life never seems to want these things for me though like I wasnt made to be a writer but I really wanted to be one, like how there are people out there who cant sing but want to become singers.

I know I cant just pick up a pencil and create something amazing without inspiration, thought, feelings. I know that it's better to write what you know about so that way you could have a deeper connection with the words you're writing on the paper, turning them into something great and thoughtful, not just random things your writing down because you're bored.

The only thing ive written though are the occasional letters to family and silly little fictions I write when In my free time when I'm feeling low on love and adventure, you know the story right? The typical girl meets boy, boy falls in love with girl then the fluffy happy ending that makes everybody happy.

I don't really know why I write romance fictions..I mean i've never fallen in love, but sure I've had crushes before. I know what it feels like to really like somebody. Sadly though i'm one of those girls that are in their late teens and still haven't had anybody confess their love to them or asked them to go out on a date. I don't think anybody has really flirted with me even..maybe I just don't notice it but I highly doubt that.

Who would want to love a girl who just sits and day dreams all day, always wondering what it would be like to go on an adventure but never once thinking about running away and actually experiencing amazing things, maybe then I would have something to write about.

Maybe why I write these silly little stories is because there is no other way to make myself feel even close to experiencing something amazing like love or a good mystery. I feel like if I write everything down and I have the story of my imaginary life right there in black ink that it might of actually happened, that maybe it could come true because it was official in some way.

I mean sure I've felt completely pathetic before while writing romance stories that half the time I don't even know what I'm talking about but that's what makes me want to write more, to create a new adventure for my other life, if i cant experience what I'm writing then I might as well make people think I do.

I stared down blankly at the paper and pencil, thoughts mostly about falling in love were running through my mind.

I'm pathetic.

I always sit here at my desk, writing great adventures out for myself but I never actually go and experience them, I never take effort in trying to fall in love or getting out of this small village.

Maybe life for me was not meant to be an exciting one, or maybe I just need to wait a little longer till i'm old enough to leave, to get out of here and live my life the way I think it would be best.

The thought of leaving my home where I have a stable life and great friends just so I can have an adventure that may never even happen is what makes me bound to pen and paper. I'm afraid that if I leave I will mess up my life and run home crying and never get to do the things I wanted to do.

when I read all of those great books from the library, the ones about fighting the bad guy and going off to find a missing piece of the puzzle seems so real but fake at the same time. It's like the adventures are too great to be true, or for them to even happen to somebody seems like a joke, especially to a sixteen year old farm girl who's never seen a town or stepped outside of the isolated village.

I've told myself many times to just stop. Stop being a whiny little day dreamer and just except life the way it is. Don't try to fix something that isn't broken. Don't ruin your life because of your stupid little fairy tales you dream up while your tired of working in the bakery.

Stop getting your heart full of hope every time the door opens to the shop and you look up, hoping that that particular somebody will bring you an adventure.

It's time I grow up and start focusing more on work, you know life isn't some dramatic treasure hunt!

But sometimes you cant help but wonder if there is somebody out there living the life you're dreaming of or if they like their life? If they wish they could change their story? I wonder If they sit and day dream sometimes about a life like mine the way I sit and day dream about a life like theirs?

I don't really think I will ever know the answers to those questions, besides the grass always looks greener on the other side. I guess I will just have to except the way life is set up for me, even though I hate it so much.