Contemplation:
That’s what’s best about imagination. You can live in a
world, where no one could hurt you. In a place that has nothing to do with the
anxieties of the past and your hopes for the future. A world of your own ideas,
thoughts and feelings. Your own set of people and your own bunch of choices.
Maybe that’s what is wrong with the world; no one gets to be
their own hero except in a figment of their own imagination. No one takes blind
leaps of faith towards being what they want to be, because the one thing that haunts
us all is the fear of being a stranger to your own self in the process of
becoming your own hero.
No wonder people build worlds for themselves in their heads,
I think that’s because no other soul has access to what they have and there is
negative chances to contaminate their idea of purity and happiness. Ironically,
each person seems to be living two lives, in two worlds, donning two attires,
one of pretence and the other the original, except that one dwells outside you
and the other inside you. No one understands that when you merge both these
worlds that you dwell in, imagination becomes reality.
Involved in the idea of being someone else’s definition of
enough, it’s a revelation that one’s own concept is the biggest high of life.
Breathing strong through every ounce of disappointment and every brutal heartbreak,
the loudest response to this melancholy would be “Silence”.
After all, it is just a matter of time to realize that
happiness is a notion that differs both in existence as well as in creation. To
me, creating this notion of joy somehow doesn’t seem like a very hard task.
