I have more to say but not enough time or enthusiasm to say it all. I may later. It’s a bunch of good, thought provoking theological ingeniousness. But I just can’t right now.
Basically, I delve very very deeply (probably too much so) into fictional stories I read or watch. So much so that I prefer to exist in that muted state of reality than participate in real life here on Earth. Not all the time… but probably more than what is considered a healthy dose of imagination.
See, most people view imagination as a great tool, to be used to make realities out of ideas and fantastical creations of the mind. And when this happens, it really does improve our world. Electricity was harnessed for domestic use that way. The books and movies I love so much come about in the same manner. But I am dysfunctional in that I don’t necessarily want to procreate any realities. I just want to stay in these fictional worlds and places, and just be. I feel no real spur onto actions of my own. Sure, I have a fleeting thought of ‘I want to write something as great as this.’ But let’s be honest, I don’t have enough gumption or sticktuitiveness to pull my dreams off.
So, where does this put me? Currently, I am torn. I continue through real life, halfway inspired and halfway numb/cynical/disappointed. I pursue dreams to a pitiful degree in the grand scheme of things. I fantasize, as is my habit and downfall. But I never do much to make fantasy into something tangible.
In short, I am a pitiful excuse for a human being and an almost complete waste of oxygen and resources
And to top it off, last weekend was Easter, and I felt inspired to be what God has for me instead of going my own way towards a destiny that’s not mine to fulfill. And I have to tell you, I’m not off to a great start.