Yeah, They Called it the Dark Ages.

I am a total freak.
I'm not kidding.

My mom used to say to me, "Savannah Jane, you are never satisfied." I'd think well I would be satisfied if I ever got what I wanted.

The truth is that I almost always get exactly what I want. My life hasn't been perfect, and I've been through things that most people will never have to worry about. I keep these things to myself because all things considered, I'm a pretty private person, and I'm uncomfortable with people, even my closest friends, knowing about my problems.

Still, I really do get just about everything I want. I feel like this is a skill I have acquired. What some call selfishness, I call being able to get what you want. This is why I admire Lady Macbeth and Sharpay. Why is it such a crime these days to look out for yourself, to make sure you get the things you want?

I have a fear--I mean fear completely literally; I have nightmares about it. This fear is mediocrity: being average. The thought of being a teacher makes me sick because every jane doe decides she'll be a teacher. Teachers get married, forget how to learn things, handcuff themselves to their teacher's editions, and have babies, buy houses--everything I don't want to do.

I live my life in a constant state of half reality/half fantasy, always writing stories in my head. They rarely make it to paper, but they get me through the day. I used to think that I would never be happy unless I were famous. Harsh reality hit, and I realized I probably never would. I tried to be content, but now I think I won't. I need something extraordinary to happen. I need to BE something spectacular.

I have come to the painful fact that reality will never be as good as fantasy. The best guy in the world is at my fingertips, and all I can think of is how it could be more exciting. The realization that if I get married, none of my fantasies have a chance of happening. I'll never be an A-list celebrity in a stable but public relationship with someone equally as awesome and popular as I.

Whatever. I'll never be satisfied. Thanks, mom, you were right. But maybe I don't want to be satisfied. Maybe the drive I have for the fantastic will make all of my dreams come true. Maybe I shouldn't settle for anything less than heart-stoppingly exciting, breath-takingly unordinary.