Old but Still Me

I found a piece of writing in my attic. Probably written in a moment of desparation some five or six years ago. I kinda like it, so I figured I would stick it here where it wouldn't crumble.

Lost and not found...Sure I am on meds that help me be happy, but I'm still lost. I am nowhere nearer to my dreams than when I conceived them. I have all these ideas that I wish to carry out, but probably will never get to. It makes me wish that there was another version of me. As if I had a double or dissociative disorder, another personality that I could have. A stronger one, a personality that would cut all this shit and accomplish what I need to do. Right now I choose to live in my imagination.

I dream of castles and pretty things...of a time long ago. It reminds me of something I heard in a conversation with my lovely Magnet kids, probably Alex, Blair or Derek. We were born during the wrong period to which I fully agree. My head is filled with romantic views of castles, long velvet dresses and chivalry. It lives only in my imagination because, as we can see in the present, chivalry is dead. I might have managed to capture one of the best guys out there, but he knows nothing of chivalry. He does not "court" me by impressions. I must be too good for that now. It makes me ponder as to whether or not I have made a mistake in my choice. Then again, who knows? Only time will tell as to what is right.
Back into my imaginative realm...
I should write my own books about these ideas that flow into my head, but I doubt that words will do these ideas any justice. How sad that I have no the talent to write, paint or compose a film to capture the beauty that flows through my head. Many things in my life will never transpire to word.

Most of this is true even still today. I see the beginnings of some interesting points, but like I wrote, it will probably never transpire to word.