How happy I am to enjoy an imagination. Having no imagination to me is like a death
sentence, a little dramatc but …I din’t know I could survive without my Alta Ego, my travel
companion in this lifetime.
How do folk cope? Having to live in the horrible reality of this world? With no music,no
poetry, no art? I may never write a story to completion, but love to write every day even if it’s
just this free written thought stuff… I can try can’t I?
I’m on Substack now and should publish every werk, but schedules just aren’t my thing, my
muse is sulking on me today and doesn’t wish to communicate.
Then I have to open technology and it’s just so much easier to get pen and paper snd just
write…old tech style as we have done since cave days with stick and ash, the need to
express ourselves fundamental, to some of us.
I’m certainly lost without a notebook and pen to write with as I walk this world…just to record
these (sometimes)crazy thoughts of mine. Getting ideas on paper, enjoying my imaginative
gift.
As a teen I told a so called friend I imagined friends when alone, and listened dry mouthed
as I ate my tea in the kitchen, knowing they were all laughing about me as she told them.
Now I’m at the age when I can appreciate my imagination, happy in my difference to others,
not wishing any more to ‘fit in’ with society or others' expectations of me. Enjoying being
different. Loving my Imagination.
