I have spent most of my life seeking a glimpse of magic in every domain that it could possibly be. I found it in nature—where nothing is seeking to gain what it cannot give. I have also found it in story—in tales of adventure, depth, and connection. The bad guy doesn't usually win in a story…mostly—which seems quite opposite in real life where the good are treated as footholds for the greedy and cold without a chance for redemption. After all, the face of evil wears a detailed mask of charity and appeasement in this world. In stories though, those sacrificed and disregarded often have a chance at receiving their karmic justice. This is one of the main reasons I prefer the story over my "real-life" experience. And, interestingly enough, some think this to be a negative thing.
Despite that a component to manifesting the life you wish involves using our imagination, it has been said that those who indulge in fictional conversations or imaginative scenarios risk diving too deep in the pool of escapism in order to cope with trauma. I never thought of my imaginative mind in that way. I always just found the conversations and life in my head to be better than any I found in reality. In my mind, I was actually seen and accepted by others, which was quite different than the life I had experienced. People knew of my skills and wanted me in their life for more than temporary fixes or healing energy. I had long-term friends who were more than excited to share their life with me. I was honored, appreciated and loved—truly the only avenue in my existence that held anything remotely close to what I wished for.
Anyone capable of imagining anything to the degree of satisfaction that I do in this mind palace I possess would likely prefer to remain, regardless if some label it as a way to escape a shitty reality. It isn't as if I haven't tried in the real world. I have spent years searching for the place I belong. I left harshness and heartache in search of even a percentage of something better. I explored, engaged, and learned so I could help others. And still, most of my achievements remain unnoticed and my connections come up shortsighted. Those who I am interested in connecting with don't seem much interested in me and vice versa and to be honest, I am just not into living a surface life where I must pretend. In my mind, I do not have to. Perhaps it is that I expect too much from this world. I do not know. And yet, no matter how skilled one is or how giving, if not leveraged in the right circumstance or shared with people with the right connections, it can seem as if achievement and intent doesn't really account for much.
Yet, I still search reality for any resemblance to the magic and depth in my mind. And there have been moments—scattered and rare as they may be—where I would see it. Only a flash, that I naively believed would last if I just wished hard enough, even to the point of ignoring the disappointment of what was real. And then, I would stop pretending that it was something it really wasn't and move on in my Earthly quest. I, being a cursed seeker who still holds a light for the possibilities that my mind refuses to release, can never stop searching. To risk becoming a slave to a mundane reality would be a worse fate for me. Though my surroundings may yield little beyond mediocrity, my mind and heart remain rich in color, laughter, and love. I find that I do not want for much because of these everlasting riches. So, what does it matter if I prefer another world to this? Whether my ponderings are motivated by trauma, or it is simply a form of preferred entertainment, I think I will always—proudly and deliberately—choose the story that has the better ending no matter the form.
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