Reality.

I've never been the type to be nailed to the ground and have my feet and head focused on reality. I'm a dreamer. My dreams and fantasies burn the fire in my soul. But reality is the joy-kill shattering my dreamy glass of a world that doesn't exist. This world is fragile because it lives only in my head, no where else.
It may be the only substance in my life that keeps me going. It's the only fuel that keeps my engine running. I can't accept the restrictions of reality, I won't. I can't bear to believe that this is all there is. There has to be more. Surely this world can't be so grey and bleak. If only I could re-paint the world, edit it a bit, bring some life and action into it. Reality and normality is boring. I hate boring.
The sun comes up in the morning and the dark sky with the illuminating moon comes out at night. Everyday. It's the same old routine. Sometimes there's rain and thunder, it's something different but it fails to entertain. Like a poor puppet show that everyone runs away from, sheltering themselves from the disgrace. The wind often comes along to provide a bit of push, swaying the trees, giving lifts for kites but it does nothing to cause a new emotion, a difference. Instead, it's just another normal aspect of everyday life. I need that extra boost. That extra spark to light up my sky. Nothing solid offers that, so I continue to live in the world that I've mentally built.