I’ve been thinking lately that as reality is the vomit, maybe I’ should go live in my imagination. As cliché as that might sound, I am seriously – and literally – thinking of doing so. Of course, my abnormally tormenting human nature would still accompany me there but I’d have more freedom, I believe. An imagined freedom might end up being worse than real life slavery but I’d still try it, just to taste a new color of existence.
Questions of love arose recently in my mind and heart and as I am a non-believer of true love, I thought maybe I might meet it in my imagination. Maybe I can even get married in my imagination! I oppose marriage vehemently, I think it’s a waste of time to drag oneself into such an atmosphere; an illusion. So maybe in my imagination I’ll get married and truly fall in love. I can imagine marrying an idea, a completely impossible notion in reality. Or marrying a black hole! That way I’d be partially living Florence + The Machine’s Cosmic Love.
I also pondered the basis of my existence and its purpose if I were to immigrate to my imagination. I think that’s one of the main problems because I’ll lack the corporeality of physical life. I can imagine physical things but I wouldn’t be able to build an entire life upon them, unless I go for schizophrenia. What a tragic end to my plans!
On the bright side, despite being stuck in this reality, I can still wander into my imagination, even if for short periods of time. I imagine God. I imagine true love. I imagine ideas dancing. I might even imagine you..