greener grass

greener grass

I keep saying I’m done for the night, and then I read another blog and it forces me to post again because I have something to say.

Last Saturday I got an e-mail from the person who runs this website. She said she liked my site, and was kind enough to link to it. So you’ll notice that there’s a new site addition under the “Cool Shiznits” (I’ve got to do something about that title) section.

Anyway, the point is, today in that blog there’s a rather intriguing discussion about hope. What I feel the need to write about isn’t so much the hope, but more so the idea of wanting something badly and then not getting it. Especially when you know all along that you probably will never get it (ie, there’s a distinct lack of hope). In such a situation, I’m finding, if there is enough of a desire in me, it tends to become a very real thing in my head. And real-world events relating to that thing no longer seem to have a very prominent effect on my imagination about this thing, since it’s become cemented in my mind as a fantasy just the way I have imagined it. What I’m trying to say, essentially, is that when I want something badly enough I unconsciously begin to treat it as something that has happened. Not in my actions, but in my thoughts. I think this requires an example to be properly conveyed. So, for example, take girls. Being a teenage boy they occupy far more than their fair share of my mental capacity. And if I’m beginning to fall for someone, at a certain point in my head I begin thinking about what would happen if they liked me to, and so forth. So that my imagination creates scenarios based on this information (that the both of us like each other) rather than reality (that I just like her).

This was often very apparent last year. It affected me in another way worth mentioning, as well. I began to live for things that would never happen. I thought “hey, I think I should do this” (this being just about anything). And I’ll think about doing it, and I’ll think about doing it, and the more I think about it the less likely I am to actually do it. And then, suddenly, realization dawns upon me with blinding intensity: I’m never going to do this. And all that’s keeping me going at this point is a random collection of fantasies and hopes and wishes for things that will never, ever, happen, either for reasons beyond my control or simply because I will never be able to bring myself to do them. It’s a shocking, depressing, somewhat exhilarating realization. I don’t want to go through it any more.

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