Chasing The Fantasy

I have an idea of what my life is supposed to look like; of the kind of person I'm supposed to be; how my relationship should appear to the rest of the world.  I think, in some sense, we all do.  What I notice is that the more i try to mold and perfect that fantasy, the more unhappy I become.  It's like swimming against the current, although it's exhausting and unnatural I can't help but wonder what I might be missing out on if I were to stop.  Those around me might be telling me to stop thrashing and just float, but I have already created an image of what the results will look like if I only swim a little harder.  My fantasy paints a fabulously vivid picture of what I will accomplish and possess as a result of this endeavor.  But, eventually, I drown.  Really, life is hard enough as it is, why do I feel the need to make it more difficult?  Perhaps I just get scared; the idea of going with the flow and embracing what I already have seems slightly too easy and suspicious, reminding me how skeptical I really am.  Not to mention I also begin to find that this idea of what my life is supposed to look like is actually not that fun for me.  I live in a fantasy world where relationships are characterized by their boundless passion and lovemaking, wisdom is defined by a person's travels, friendship is a group activity with Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha, and true integrity involves oil paint, canvas and an acoustic guitar.  My fantasy involves confidence I don't have to work for, love I don't have to give, fashion as the catalyst for my bohemian disposition, and money as the solution to my life's problems, oh and, also, in my fantasy I am not materialistic or vain.  Funny thing, I don't like big groups, I do better one-on-one, and I'm lazy when it comes to being fashionable, a pendant and t-shirt are usually adequate when choosing an outfit for the evening, passion is really a poetic word for drama and it makes me feel confused and sometimes manic, and limitless amounts of sexual intercourse usually results in a yeast infection.  I don't have the patience to paint and my guitar skills are unimpressive.  Traveling sounds wonderful but I'm realizing that I am afraid of new things and would want to do it with a close friend, somebody free of drama and excess passion who accepts me for who I am.

Every time I try to chase these fantasies they leave me emotionally hungover and under the impression that if I could only alter my circumstances, even just a little, my life would become what I think it's supposed to be, but instead I just find myself repeatedly seeking shelter from my own shadow, tears in my ears crouched up on my imperfect apartment floor, wondering what exactly it was, or who for that matter, that lead me in the wrong direction this time-if only my boyfriend was more chivalrous, my mother paid more attention to me, my dad was capable of caring about me, my friends called more, my job was better, skin clearer, body more tone, income higher, bipolar non-existent, etc. etc. etc.  My world really consists of a variety of imperfect things that are, in fact, perfect for me.  Deep down, the reality of every challenge and defect is that growth, change and advancement of self that leads me to becoming the person I'm really supposed to become, not the person I think I should be.  When I lay my arms out and take a deep breath, letting the current take me where it wants me to go, I find myself in a position where I have everything I need, I guess it's just a matter of appreciating it.  I'm a real ungrateful bitch sometimes, when I'm chasing the fantasy.