I Can Haz Dragons?

There is a roiling unease within me.  Lately, it has been thrashing about demanding some sort of satisfaction – satisfaction that I cannot provide. It is not depression that I feel, but certainly a cousin to it. Sort of a wistful, discontented entity.  It has similar symptoms of depression…inability to find pleasure in usual pleasure-inducing activities, melancholy – to a much lesser degree than what I am accustomed to.  But the worst characteristic of…whatever this is, is the yearning.  I want…something that does not exist. I want to live, actually live, in my own imagination.  It’s an absolute hare-brained desire with absolutely no foundation in reality or the realm of possibility.  A desire that may not be unique to myself, but tends to be abandoned by those that have it in the early years of childhood.  So why do I still have it?  To the point that it causes me distress?  I think I would rather live in a world where I might face being charred alive by a dragon than in this one with all it’s ugliness and pettiness and lack of magic.  I know it’s all perspective, but my perspective is as it is.  It’s like no one really respects noble aspirations or honor anymore, if they ever did.  It’s more important to look a certain way.  Honesty isn’t as valued I think it should be and lies abound from most people in their attempts to present a certain facade, all appearances.

When you are young, before you become jaded by reality, the imagination can coincide with reality, the hope of seeing fantastical things is still intact.  But year after year of learning the "rules" of reality and waiting for those grand things, whatever they may be, to appear or manifest…a child grows into someone who sees the line between fantasy and reality.  There is no longer an overlap.  Tiny fairies invisible to the human eye do not live inside flowers.  Unicorns do not prance around in some secret grove.  Magic is not something that can be learned when one gets older.  You will never be able to cast fireball, nor will you be able to cast a healing spell.  And love…love belongs to fairytales.  The love you know as one first introduced to the concept of romantic affiliations is completely different form the love that you find exists in reality.

There are no Starjewels.  There are no knights.  "Hero" is a word used to describe professional sports icons or one’s father or grandparent in the aspect of an "everyday hero."  I’ve said it before and I will say it as long as I draw breath:  The only perfect love is a tragic love – Romeo and Juliet, Pyramus and Thisbe, Sturm and Alhanna, Tidus and Yuna, Gilthanas and Silvara, Vanyel and Tylendel, the list goes on.  Passions that never get a chance to wither and fade, ever sweeter for the potential and eternally remembered as perfectly beautiful until tragedy brings the curtain down upon the stage.