Lost one

i've come to know myself as a dreamer, and not in a positive way.
more like a bummer.

escapism is my forte. fantasy is my indulgence.
sloth is my vice. imagination, my sanctuary.

i'm different. that's bout the only thing that i like, or at least accept, about me.
i like hating myself. i hate liking myself. but i hate changing myself too. does that imply me liking myself?

i m the type of guy whom society despise, whom ppl detest, whom elites discriminate, whom women scorn. i m the guy who is different, but only just.

i m a dependant of society in an ever-evolving world, inclining towards the independence of the individual over the dependancy of society. yet society itself refuses to budge, refuses to change it's collective perspective: that being independent means being alone, and more importantly, that being alone is a negative connoctation.

i m the guy whose common sense tends to zero. i m a guy of above average IQ, but only just. i'm stuck in no man's land; not smart enough to achieve, not stupid enough to be condemned. i've a mentality likened to those found in ppl whose academic IQ tends to the lower spectrum of the scale. i have the ego of one too. ie. none.
but i've a pride struggling to reinstate itself upon the man whose name is Ambrose.

there's little in the world in which i find joy in. i find joy in inanimate things, things of fantasy, of creation, of fantasy. i find joy in books, games, thoughts, the natural and artifical (man-made) world. i find intrigue in things foreign: a new language, technology, music, mentality. and yet, these things r not of value to society, if value can be judged by the dollar.

if i could run away. if i could be a bum for the rest of my life. but i can't.
i can't because i have obligations to my family.
i can't because i have obligations to my friends.
i can't because i have obligations to myself.

no man was created to waste his life away.
neither was i.
such a pity. the world is an amazing place.
sometimes.
if only the world was a dream.
and the dream were my dream.

i struggle to run from society, but i know i can't, coz i'm not made that way.
but i understand those who do so, those who have done so, and i do not blame them.
i'm a people person, but yet i'm not.

i'm the guy whom ppl turn to when they need entertainment.
when they need a breath of fresh air.
when they want a difference to life that they know it.
but i'm not a person for keeping.
i never asked to be a friend whose relationship is classified as 'nomadic platonic'.
but it's been pushed upon me.
i can never be a best friend. not because i don't want to, but because no one wants to.