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The immersion of fiction in everyday reality

New post today, whoop whoop! So I had a thought today, about myself and how I become so immersed in fiction I despise returning to reality. It amuses me how my mind becomes so caught up in a world so unlike my own and yet so similar. How characters on pages are related to everyday people we meet and know. How heroes are heroes in books and villains are villains and I found it funny how the area becomes grey in the real world. How every action is subjective to the people around us. How we consider someone a villain and in their minds they are the hero. We go through life labeling people as we see fit, never really knowing who they truly are.

I wonder about myself? If in some peoples minds I’m the hero or the villain? Yet in the end it doesn’t really bother me. I am who I choose to be. Labelled by others but I don’t let it change myself. Often in life people become who others deem them to be. They bring themselves down for the sake of what others want. Don’t misinterpret what I’m trying to say, I don’t mean we shouldn’t over time change, but I feel that when we do change, it is our decision and hopefully it is for the better. I will not let my life be guided by ignorant perceptions of half truths. Truths that people feel they know, but in reality are far from the actual mark of who I am as a person.

I do not begrudge them for I play many roles. I do not let people know things I don’t want them to, neither do I hide who I am frivolously. I play the role I’m needed to be for people, but in truth only the people I deem deserving do I allow to see who I really am. Above the surface I may seem boisterous and in some ways transparent, but look beneath and you shall find a deeper person.

A person who thinks and weighs every thought carefully. On the off chance I do things on the whim -it does happen-  I will always reflect upon my actions, regretfully or not, is not the issue. The purpose and the action I justify to myself, and ask myself if I had another chance, would I do it different? I wonder how people can go galloping around treading upon emotions and feelings without thought to who a person actually is. We have become such an egotistical society, we rarely seek or even encompass empathy, or even so much as sympathy for others. And that is the crux of my ponderings, as to why I immerse myself in fiction, when reality has become cumbersome.

In our own worlds we can be who we want, believe what we want, and no longer be subjected to others demeaning opinions or judgments. In a world where creativity is king, and dragons soar past the horizon, the world feels as if we can be anyone, do anything. Perhaps living in a world where fantasy is key and reality is subject to debate is not in retrospect healthy, but then again most things in this world aren’t good for you. In the end, the choice is not what I choose to believe is real or not. In then end the choice between what I deem is reality and what reality deems imagination is the real conundrum.

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