I’m seeing that I’m at my most content when I’m not writing.
Which isn’t what I want, because I like write. But I’m content when my head is in the clouds…
I daydream a lot. I daydream because I’d rather be somewhere else, either by myself or with others. Apparently such a thing can be diagnosed as a malnormative mental disorder, but I’ve yet to go to a shrink to find out.
Its nice to spend some time out of the real world and into another one. I’ve gone to other countries, done things I normally wouldn’t do, and haven’t suffered consequences afterwards. I’m 28 years old, and I have imaginary friends, or, as Wendy Williams calls it, “friends in my head”. These are people I go to when I need someone to vent to, when pen and paper just aren’t enough. I even imagine scenarios where things play out in ways I expect them to.
It’s not healthy, of course, and I could useore time outside of the house, yes, but the parallel universes of my imaginations and the people who occupy them are how I get through the day.
“Why don’t you write this stuff down? You could build towards a novel, publish it, and make some money!”
Well, normally I don’t think about that. However, it is a great idea. Though I am lazy when it comes to writing down these daydreams. I’m more likely to write down actual dreams right after waking up than the daydreams.
Though the daydreams are more developed than dreams, and make a bit more sense. Mainly due to my creating them…