Status: EDITING
Of Illusory Fancy; My Imaginary Friend's Human
Prologue
I, Serenity Crater have always inhabited in places of pure bred imagination; since I was but a little girl, dressed in the frilliest of garments my grandmother chose for me. With the most veracious of guffaws, I fantasized of a world with imperious dragons, faeries adorned with skirts of petals, saturated in a light pink and creamy to the touch. It was a world in which colorful schools of fish pedaled their fins with vigor, not in the ocean's tumbling waters but in the very air I breathe. You're probably taking me as on the brink of insanity and lunacy, but take a closer and less skeptical look at it in a not so comfortable perspective. . .
Would the sanest man rather live in the rolling lands of my own fabrication where the grass is certainly greener or would he prefer to brainlessly slave away to the societies of planet earth, where conflicts erupt out of greed and negative emotions? So, the question of the day is none other than: The former or the latter?
With great pleasure I choose the non-humbling former.
On the subject of the matter, I think I've made my point. Though, I contemplate on whether I'm veering off into the incorrect direction.
Out of all the productions I created while skipping my life away in grandmother's garden, it never would have crossed my mind now at the age of eighteen that any of my little realm's contents would have proved to be a legitimate truth, real, existing. In my toddler years, I would have bet a million dollars that everything I made up was most definitely real. No, I would have bet the gilded chest, which overflowed with twinkling diamonds and sapphires, which I assumed was existing as well, which was of more importance to me than my own life.
So, who holds the righteous title of pertaining not only to my mind's factory, but to the world as well?
Beautifully clothed nymphs, flying fish, my deepest condolences for I bring disappointment and stupor.
It's not the scary dragons either. . .
I'll state it with simplicity.
My imaginary friend is real. . .
He's a living, walking, breathing human.
Would the sanest man rather live in the rolling lands of my own fabrication where the grass is certainly greener or would he prefer to brainlessly slave away to the societies of planet earth, where conflicts erupt out of greed and negative emotions? So, the question of the day is none other than: The former or the latter?
With great pleasure I choose the non-humbling former.
On the subject of the matter, I think I've made my point. Though, I contemplate on whether I'm veering off into the incorrect direction.
Out of all the productions I created while skipping my life away in grandmother's garden, it never would have crossed my mind now at the age of eighteen that any of my little realm's contents would have proved to be a legitimate truth, real, existing. In my toddler years, I would have bet a million dollars that everything I made up was most definitely real. No, I would have bet the gilded chest, which overflowed with twinkling diamonds and sapphires, which I assumed was existing as well, which was of more importance to me than my own life.
So, who holds the righteous title of pertaining not only to my mind's factory, but to the world as well?
Beautifully clothed nymphs, flying fish, my deepest condolences for I bring disappointment and stupor.
It's not the scary dragons either. . .
I'll state it with simplicity.
My imaginary friend is real. . .
He's a living, walking, breathing human.
♠ ♠ ♠
This is just the prologue. Comments would really encourage me to post the rest.