Let’s just mute reality and drift into the abyss.
Sometimes I want to forget everything. I will shut the door, leave the curtains open and let the night creep into my room like a shunned soul, estranged from warmth and affection. I like to feel lost in its stubbornness, the way it harbours secrets; the colours are muted, the objects obscured and suddenly reality has shifted into a fuzzy conception of what is. And the best thing? I can relax. Like writing. When I can no longer fight for motivation I will block out the world so that time has become a distant notion and all that matters is the here and now. After a few hours I lose my bearings and it’s not long before I turn on the lights and let reality flood back in.
Like reading, your mind shuts itself off from the world and in an instant it’s as if you’re looking into yourself and watching the images unfold. Actually it’s quite strange, and weird. Definitely weird. Because the moment your attention has become invested in the story and images unfolding, you are no longer registering the words you’re reading. But somehow your mind still wanders on, eyes searching the page. It’s one hell of a strange, unconscious process.
But with absorption comes a need to escape. We feel restrained by the chains forcing us to stare into truth. Responsibilities are a burden we all feel drowning us when we’ve become overwhelmed. And what do we do? We procrastinate. But more than that we retreat into a part of ourselves we want to protect from the isolating fears of commitment. We want to escape this prison we call reality. Except reality isn’t all that bad; it’s full of so many cathartic respites and challenging acts that we do feel there’s worth to who we are and why we’re here (without going too philosophical). Yet when I turn to literature, film, and TV, I do so to escape a monotonous reality expelling banal words that drivel on about future in the most conventional ways possible.
Is it wrong to ask for something extraordinary? To stray from that rhythm of: learn, work, marry, die. By no means is that wrong to want, should you wish to follow such a pattern. But to embrace the unorthodox and to be consumed by the inconceivable is something I cannot but yearn for. To live an unpredictable lifestyle is all I could want. Forget the risks because if I’m going to make mistakes I’d rather live them through, standing on the precipice of life and death.
When I talk about dispelling myth i guess you could say it’s a mockery against the term. In vain we press desperate notions vindicating illusion; fantasy; fiction. When you out your dedication to these fabrications there’ll always be people waiting to splutter inconveniences in an attempt to hinder your full enjoyment of fiction. But all that I have discussed proves how essential the imagination is to every single person, no matter what they might say. So if you want to read books about boy bands, you don’t need to feel ashamed. If you want to read about dragons, you don’t need to feel ashamed. If you want to read about aliens, vampires, investigators, fairy tales, god knows what, you don’t need to feel ashamed. There comes a time when society needs to face up to hypocrisy and the only way we’re going to solve it is with time.