I hear you. Your cries that I am so-called “asinine” all because of my fantasies. You tear me down, but I am far too familiar with that concept that I will simply prove you to be wrong. So I ask of you, please listen, and I will demonstrate that I am perfectly sane for envisioning such “absurd” realities.

A cry more sorrowful than sorrow herself; a seething, simmering deep within the soul that is more potent than the most passionate fire; an upbringing filled with misery, grief, and rage; Depression that fuels splendid moments when confronted; ambivalence that shapes wild reveries that lead to objections that I oppose. Such is the way that I’ve lived.

Stay with me, as though these fancies may seem extravagant, they are, in truth, rather sensible. All I dream is that one day I will witness a beneficial alteration in what is considered rational, that I will experience an advancement in the imaginative aspect of oneself, to be encouraged to think, rather than follow.

But of course, as I’ve been told time and time again, it is only one with sheer inanity that would muse in such a way. That is what you believe as well, is it not? After all, we all have been brainwashed and made to act in a way to abide by what is considered “normal,” and that is the ultimate truth. That is the reality we live in. 

It doesn’t have to be this way. If only we were to succeed in engaging nonconformity, to follow our own path, perhaps one would be allowed and able to cogitate imaginativeness.