I don't have a lot of vices. I don't drink alcohol, smoke, gamble or play Ragnarok. But I do have one bad habit I can't shake: Daydreaming.
Aw shucks, you'd say. Daydream ent a vice. We all daydream.
But sir, my daydreams are such that they are violence in itself. It is a harpoon impinged on reality, sucking the air out and leaving the real world listless. It has the power to physically disable me from functioning. It swallows me whole and brings me to places that you may not want to exist.
I have always claimed that I am living a Half-Life (channeling Duncan Sheik), and the truth is, I live half of my life in the physical world and the other half in the world my mind made for myself.
In the midst of everyday living, I had been queen, psychopath and prophetess. I saved the world thrice, saved lives seven by seven hundred times, and sat with Oprah to talk about my mission in Africa. I have written four books, appeared in 6 movies, documented ghosts and superstitious beliefs of the five continents along with Neil Gaiman and M Night Shyamalan. I have killed vultures with cellphones, was kidnapped by a tribe and tortured beyond my wits. I took a bullet for Prince William, lost all my memory and regained it through slow and heartbreaking therapy.
I found out I had psychic powers and could move objects with a semi-think. I learned of my nephilimic ancestry, and took it upon myself to take up the sword on the side of the Light. I fought demons, vampires and creatures of the night. I won over them once just by clapping my hands. I sat on combs that helped me fly, I opened windows that looked out to a sea of dead cats and dogs.
If I tell you right now EVERYTHING I have daydreamed of, it would be the longest entry in the blogging universe. It might also be too scary for the normal Joe and Jane. So I can't.
It sounds bad, I know. But to the imagination that wouldn't rest, the heart that is not satisfied with the lack of magic with the here and now, it's a gift.
It took me a long time to appreciate the romance in the ordinary. But even then, the daydreams cannot stop. Especially not now. When the only way I could be with you is to daydream about it.
When you finally realized that I can exist just for you. Where you finally got over your complacency or terror of the strange and the odd and the truly beautiful. Because what is truly beautiful has always been a terrifying thing.
Until this has become reality --