#superreality

╪ SHINTARO KAGO ╪

I started reading The Raven Cycle recently, and I figured out it was a good series due to the fact that about 3/4 of the way through the second book I descended into a deep, philosophical existential crisis. 

I looked at the magic, and wonder, and incredulity in the lives of those boys and Blue and I realized, truly, soul-deep, that those things would never be in my life. 

Have I stumbled on another broken aspect of the human condition? That we’re always desiring to be more than we are, even to the point of futility? Is it wrong of me to want the shock and awe, the sense of the impossible, in the form of the impossible? I want to experience the unreal, see what’s not been seen before, witness magic. Is it so wrong?

Is it just another product of the strange mental acuity and peace that comes when I am absent from this world, even for a second? The knowledge that good fantasy novels are, to me, a safety blanket made of razors, came to me after this realization, while I was sitting alone, in the pitch black, in the corner between my closed bathroom door and the counter. 

Do I only have this desire because I am completely and utterly average? Sort of average-looking, not extraordinarily intelligent or talented in any way. The only things that even remotely set me apart are the things that are wrong with me. The fact that I question the reality of my existence, and think that I see things differently than other people, and want to be anything but normal, and I want to be part of something extraordinary. 

It’s all just a huge pile of rotten rubbish if you ask me. 

I want to be anywhere but here. 

The thought of going to work tomorrow...going to work tomorrow sounds like cutting off my own limbs to me. Like extricating a piece of my soul from where it belongs and throwing it into acid.