The World is no More Than the Reality We Choose for it to Be

“In a world of Talkers be a Thinker.”

The reason I read is because I can insert myself into a world completely different from my own. Abstract and interesting. Where things make sense and everything ultimately has a solution. In the real world things take a time. In books they can be solved in a matter of minutes. Days pass with every word you read, years in minutes. A lifetime flashes before your eyes .

Sometimes it leaves me questioning why the modern world isn’t just as interesting. I’m told fantasy isn’t reality. There are no heroes or villains. Only people. So I read.

Because I’m told the world is of no interest to me. I’m told outside of my realm of fiction and fantasy is a gray landscape of sorrow and pain.

But if the human imagination has the ability to warp itself into another world through books and movies, why can’t it do the same in reality. Why does the bleak world we’re told we live in have to be merely that?

If I chose to perceive the world with eyes of amusement and vigor, if I choose to see steeds in place of cars, warriors instead of police, healers instead of doctors, magic in place of science, what’s stopping me? What is stopping me but the limitation of my own puny imagination? Nothing.

So to some the world may be gray buildings on gray skies, gray hearts in gray lives, it’s so much more to me. It’s forests of magic, and castles filled with kind-hearted kings, trusty mages, dragons and unicorns. To me the world is one of fantasy and imagination. One of love and kindness. Strength and hope.

Because fantasy delves so much further beyond words on a page or pictures on a screen. It lives in the hearts and minds of those who create it.

The world can be anything you want it to be, you just have to open your eyes to see it.

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