^{*I think I'm going to do a series of introspective blogs about what I've learned in life so far, aptly named the reflection series. read my last blog which is the first of many down the road}

There are a lot of ways to dissect someone's personality, a series of questions, inkblot tests, but I think someone's favourite number can tell a lot about a person too. There's really no basis for my feeling except that, well, why not? If your favourite shape can indicate something, why not a number? For instance rounded numbers and even numbers are a popular pick, they're simple, easily divisible; not complicated. Then we get to odd numbers, quirky, uneven, they don't really fit in to a regular set. And then, then there are the prime numbers. My favourite numbers are 3 and 13, both prime. Prime numbers are unique because they are only divisible by one and itself, they are essentially alone in a sea of numbers. There's no pair, nothing that fits into it besides itself and one but one isn't special, one goes with everything. 

Sometimes I feel prime, alone, that there's a cage in my mind. That's the thing though, all restrictions are in your mind because if you really wanted something you'd fight for it because people are tenacious when they want to be. 

When I was little I wanted to be a vet because I loved animals, that was the first of many dreams. Since then, I've wanted to be a doctor, a nurse, an author, a famous artist (performing or fine arts) but they never really lasted. I constantly compared myself to others and asked myself 'why bother?' when there's someone already doing it? Someone already better. Maybe, maybe if I stuck to one thing I'd be in a better place. Maybe if I went after my dreams with everything I had I'd live a better life, in a city I love, with my parents holding a job they love, and not falling into the abyss when I think of the direction my life has headed. Things are so much easier when you're a child, but soon you're afflicted with a fever and become an adult. For some, this process is a slow build, for others it happens all too soon. At eight, I was walking down a gradual path until the fever hit and bed-ridden me. As a child you think the world is there to cater to you, but as you bloom into an adult you realize the harsh realities. 

I've scrapped my knees, fallen countless times and stood back up much too quickly in fear of falling behind. Life isn't a race, but we make it that. We race to our dreams, our ideal life, our loves, we race against time because as you grow up it seems to go by so much faster. No one wants to wither away into nothing. I was a child with ideas of grandeur, that I would be something, now, as an adult, I have the fear that I won't get to be that something; the someone I so desperately want to be. Im the fish constantly trying to jump streams even though at the end of it all we end up in the same ocean or lake. But at this different stream they see the life they want. Perhaps it's undeserved, perhaps the fish feels like they fought hard enough and that they should be rewarded. A constantly jumping fish; however, is an easy target for predators. 

The line between the things I want and the things I need are blurred, a feeling of injustice curls in my gut when I fee like life hasn't given me what I deserved or, more accurately, what I want. I throw my pacifier and bang my rattle.  

As a child I was attracted to all things shiny and glittery and I thought I would get them. As an adult, I look upon these wants and desires with the knowledge that I may never get them. This isn't the life I thought I would have--not the one I wanted--it's dull and grey and unextraordinary. The sky I live under never seems to change and the nights are always echo the loneliness within me. 

I was greedy and I still am. Because dreams are all we have that keep us moving, but once the dreams stop does that mean you have become complacent with your surroundings or are you finally content? My life isn't the one I want, but all we can do is move on, bit-by-bit, until we stop.

(I've had thousands of dreams but

never once had I caught one

and I'm beginning to grow tired.)