Why is it that we are so concerned with imagining ourselves in positions that would never happen? Why do we spend so much time simply fantasizing? Living vicariously through… nothing. It’s stupid, is it not? When one spends so much time imagining life to be a much more beautiful place, it only makes the real world seem drab in comparison. So, while it may feel good at the time to live in those wonderful dreams, do they really help you to be happy? Or do they make you more unhappy with life because it will never compare to what you can conjure in your head?

People like myself can get into trouble with such conjurations. For as long as I can remember, I have spent large amounts of time daydreaming. Especially when I am writing. I can get lost in my own labyrinth of characters and events, until it no longer feels like a dream, but a memory. I remember it as though it actually happened. It can be very frightening, you know. One day you can tell the difference between fantasy and reality. The next, you’re wondering if that yellow elephant who slept on your floor last night will still be there when you get home from work.

It’s a very scary feeling to not know what is real and what is not. To know that you have confused the two in the past, to a degree so severe that you got a certificate of insanity, a certificate that you framed and hung in your room proudly. But did you really?

All I have left is to shake my head vigorously and try not to think about it too hard. For the more I dwell on it, the more the lines blur. I’m starting to feel that day dreams are a very very bad thing. They can make one ache for something that will never exist.

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