In the book Looking For Alaska, one of the things I remember Miles Halter saying (very insignificant, I suppose, yet very true) is that
"That didn't happen of course. Things never happened like I imagined them."
I like making things up in my mind. It makes me happy, and perhaps it is the simplest way that I can enlighten my mood. And that I'm glad because things I imagine never happen.
People often take that as a disappointment, but I don't. I am actually quite happy that things never happen the way I imagine them. It is not a disappointment to me because I know from the very beginning that it is only my imagination, it is just what I randomly make up. Oh and believe me, nobody will ever want those things to happen. My imaginations are nuts, I'm telling you.
I was sitting on the sofa reading a book this afternoon. While half of my brain was drenched in the words that are beautifully written by Cecelia Ahern, another half of it wandered off a bit. I started mapping out my own family tree, adding some crazy little details to make it a family of mystery. When it reached far enough to my great-great-great-grandfather, I imagined the secret bond he had with the ancestors of Lee Ka-Shing (probably still the richest man in Hong Kong), and all the deepest, darkest unsolved mysteries about these two families; nevertheless, the fact that my great-great-great-grandfather helped Lee Ka-Shing concealed the truth eventually got them both killed. I imagined danger came after us, and how generations after generations of both of our families lived under the threat of being murdered. I imagined the fear we had to live with, then I imagined my sister being kidnapped. Then my mind got back on track again. Everything in my imagination, POOF! Gone. So I went back to the book again, thanking God how this could never be true, and that my sister was sleeping soundly in her room instead of being kidnapped.
It was merely 60 seconds and I could already make up ridiculous stories that I wish would never happen. Not to mention, the little suspense short story of my family background was hardly related to the book I was reading. It brought me excitement, though. The thrill was indescribable, it somehow made me laugh a little about my silly, yet interesting, thoughts.
Maybe this is what life is all about. When it tightens you with its strong force (like when one dries a towel), draining all your energy away until both your mind and torso become exhausting, it is always good to wander off a bit, do whatever you want; and after a while, get back on track again. This is not easy for some people though, they are afraid of getting lost if they wander too far away by mistake, that is why they choose to stay on track with life, until the tiresomeness of life sucks their souls dry. Or that they may think it's a waste of time to take a holiday from life. These people who are not willing to let go of their life for a while will hardly ever have a taste of happiness. They keep surviving under no fear of getting lost, but at the same time, they keep surviving without taking a break, learning to laugh a little.
My imagination takes me away from life for a while, and it has so far been the best place for me to wander off whenever life tires me. What about you, where do you usually wander off to?
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