We all have it—that world inside ourselves in which we escape to once in a while, or at least I have. Ever since I was a young child I loved fictional novels, films, and even oral tales. They fascinated me and inspired such interesting thoughts, such epic ideas from me that I was lifted up to another world where reality could not touch me.
I believe in mythical creatures, in vampires, in places that have no name in our history books. I believe in such things because of their abilities to change from book to book, and person to person. How they can allow you to express your feelings and imaginings through mere pen and paper. True, not everyone is as great a writer as Edgar Allen Poe (I’m certainly not), but I still write or simply explore my ideas through silent events inside my mind.
I believe in excitement, adventure, nonconformity, and sane insanity. I look as life as an adventure. If it becomes too repetitive or “boring,” my imagination twists it around into something that will keep me awake when all I want to do is sleep. My thoughts and the visions of others help keep life up-beat instead of generic. Also, my imagination can have a good amount of control over my temperaments and how much they fluctuate. For instance, when I’m angry, I attempt to conjure up a humorous scene or two from either my own archive or from that of a book or film that will calm me or make me happier.
The world can be black and white or it can be colored; it’s all how you view it. I put my faith in other worlds, in “unworldly” creatures, and fantastical ideas because they allow me to see thrill and adventure in life. I believe in the imagination.
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