My friend and I are partially tipsy…partially awake so we crawl into my barely warm (we’re totally bitching about the temperature…don’tcha just love my run on sentences) bed just now…
Or 5-10 min from now depending on when I finish writing this. A sensitive topic comes up then I’m thrown one of those, awful, world famous “what if” questions. It was so weird because both my answers/options ended with very less than satisfying results. Imaginary results mind you…but lack luster, non “fluffy,” nonetheless.
I guess the point of this…really…is why does the imaginary have to always lean towards “fantasy?” Fantasy in the damsel dragon sort of way.
Why can’t our imagination be filled with just as much of the cold…not so hard…truth? I’m ok with the truth.
Cuz I damn sure am over fantasies. Especially when reality is so fucking V A S T. I mean seriously…why even bother what iffing over anything when you can take a great big whiff of what, actually, is.
Open your eyes.
I’m getting high off today.