My imagination went on a vacation
I was a pretty strange kid. Whether I was sitting in the classroom or just casually walking outside, my brain never stopped daydreaming about the strangest things. I would take even the smallest of gestures and turn it into a wild chain of events. I had a real talent for turning the tiniest moments into full-blown, life-altering disasters or miracles in my head. I used to think it was somewhat of a curse back then, thinking that it somewhat detached me from reality, when it actually spurred my creativity.
This seriously reminds me of when I used to lose myself in books. From Geranimo Stiltion, to the magic tree house, I would read anything related to fantasy. Reading wasn’t just a way to pass the time, it was an escape almost, a gateway between life and dreams. From fueling my imagination, sparking strange ideas, and turning things into a grand adventure, reading was magical back then. With all the things now, reading doesn’t feel the same. It almost feels like a chore, and even when I do read I can’t lose myself in a book’s fantasy. The gateway had crumbled and I didn’t bother to repair it.
It’s kind of like as our minds get clogged up with responsibilities, our creativity decays. It’s almost as if our mind’s are running a constant to-do list and it’s almost impossible to notice the smallest details. I kind of miss the times when my mind was freely able to wander without all this deadweight holding me down. In other words, I miss day dreaming, and I miss reading like I used to you know?
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