I was a person who admires books, from the covers to the thin papers inside, the smell, the texture, the feeling....needless to say I loved what written inside, the most.
My head was always stuck in a book or another, dreaming, day dreaming, syncing myself into the story, stick to the character that has the most things in common with me, and pretend its me, to the point I get dreams about it in my sleep....sometimes the story is altered in my head to another story that would be tailored to my everyday life / experiences.
Those days were the best, even though I felt lonely, but wasn't alone...I had the characters from my books to fill my head and feed my soul.
Sounds an amazing experience....to be synced with someone else that doesn't exists.
To shed your skin for a while, just to know what it feels like to be in someone else's.
What would happen in a same situation if I was someone else, in some place else, in another time & space? That would be interesting yet scary.
The worst part is, its not happening anymore.
I start a book, and feel like I am reading....just reading words...the feeling of living the story is not happening.
I have the urge to finish the book without even wanting to dig deeper to see what was the author feeling at the time of the writing, or if there is a moral to the story...or if it depicted or translated one reality into another for a cover up.
My favorite stories are erotic scenes mixed with action and violence, and specially when the psyche of the person is so real and reachable you cannot but feel that you are feeling the same way too.
Makes you feel the crazy monster, that everyone is hiding deep down, want to get out and play.
My imagination is shrinking...I try listening to music that makes me think of something beyond my reality, imagining myself in another place with other people, different surrounding.
The feeling of not belong where you are is one of the worst; living the story that I would be reading made me forget where I am, or what time is it.
The more my imagination shrunk, the worst the feeling of "not belonging" worsen.
I get bored of everything easily, it takes a lot to keep me interested.
The weirder stuff are, the better I like them, the more I stick to them.
Living in a country where your imagination & actions are limited is frustrating, it makes you want to give it all up, and go back to the place where you blossomed in so many ways on so many levels.
But some plans don't need imagination to be done...sadly.
Conclusion: being who you are, as weird and imaginative as you may be...in the wrong place, where all of it doesn't count, or matter, its useless! Like a bird who's wings were cut.
Better luck next time....
My head was always stuck in a book or another, dreaming, day dreaming, syncing myself into the story, stick to the character that has the most things in common with me, and pretend its me, to the point I get dreams about it in my sleep....sometimes the story is altered in my head to another story that would be tailored to my everyday life / experiences.
Those days were the best, even though I felt lonely, but wasn't alone...I had the characters from my books to fill my head and feed my soul.
Sounds an amazing experience....to be synced with someone else that doesn't exists.
To shed your skin for a while, just to know what it feels like to be in someone else's.
What would happen in a same situation if I was someone else, in some place else, in another time & space? That would be interesting yet scary.
The worst part is, its not happening anymore.
I start a book, and feel like I am reading....just reading words...the feeling of living the story is not happening.
I have the urge to finish the book without even wanting to dig deeper to see what was the author feeling at the time of the writing, or if there is a moral to the story...or if it depicted or translated one reality into another for a cover up.
My favorite stories are erotic scenes mixed with action and violence, and specially when the psyche of the person is so real and reachable you cannot but feel that you are feeling the same way too.
Makes you feel the crazy monster, that everyone is hiding deep down, want to get out and play.
My imagination is shrinking...I try listening to music that makes me think of something beyond my reality, imagining myself in another place with other people, different surrounding.
The feeling of not belong where you are is one of the worst; living the story that I would be reading made me forget where I am, or what time is it.
The more my imagination shrunk, the worst the feeling of "not belonging" worsen.
I get bored of everything easily, it takes a lot to keep me interested.
The weirder stuff are, the better I like them, the more I stick to them.
Living in a country where your imagination & actions are limited is frustrating, it makes you want to give it all up, and go back to the place where you blossomed in so many ways on so many levels.
But some plans don't need imagination to be done...sadly.
Conclusion: being who you are, as weird and imaginative as you may be...in the wrong place, where all of it doesn't count, or matter, its useless! Like a bird who's wings were cut.
Better luck next time....
