Imagination was given to us to compensate for what we are not; a sense of humor was given to us to console us for what we are.
The imagination can be a wonderful tool, but it can also be used as a crutch when reality is not wholly to our liking. We can trick ourselves into believing the most unlikely of things with just a tweak or two upon the dial between hopes and desires. Wishes are not reality. Longing is not fact. Dreams take more than the having of them to come true.
Sometimes actions of our own are all that is required, sometimes other people hold the key to the door between the imagined and the factual. The former is the best bet; if real effort is put into it we can be certain to reach some level of success. When it depends upon someone else the results are unpredictable.
I have had so many lessons of this sort in my lifetime, making it impossible to give my energy wholly to any imagining that involves anyone else. Some measure of fantasy is impossible to dismiss, but I am most careful nowadays to limit it to its smallest common denominator so that any heartache is as minor as I can make it. Some things are just too hard to swallow in one huge gulp, better to keep the bites small as possible for safety sake.
I do not struggle over-long upon facts that cannot be denied. I allow them to hurt as badly as they need to, before I sooth them with acceptance then I travel on. Tears come, but never in an oceans depth. Sorrow lingers on for as long as it needs to, yet it has to follow me past its place of impact. Life goes on, it must or why bother.
THINK ABOUT IT
LET IT GROW
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