On my ideals

One thing I like about chatting, is how easy it is to make people believe in things that are really just figments of your imaginative brain. Not that I always like to lie, I sometimes do when I feel like goofing around. Sadly, that sometime comes a bit too often. *grins* But I find it strangely amusing whenever I make up stories and how they readily buy it, that it serves to me as a catalyst to actually establish a good conversation with them.

I suppose it’s my yawning belief in serendipity. That I need it to coincide it with my daily life, cause I want so much to have even if it is just slight, a confirmation that it exists. And even though there is a good chance that this queer need to embroider a dull occurrence in my life to a more thrilling worth-looking-back-at-and-ponder-about serendipities that I feel is probably the most romantic thing that could happen to a person, especially to one like me, is not out there. I would still want to think it is. Because the idea it gives to me idolizes the romance I had fantasized of since I had been a little kid. And I would rather have that than embrace the fact that the world has no magic at all, and romance is just real on fairy tales.

The idea and the truth that the world is such a chaotic, disorganized place but that it is still capable of causing such beautiful things to happen, the likes of serendipity or destined faith, has such an influence to my perceptions that I would not want to let go of. And the thought that it is because it is so out of order that it cannot stop such wonderful things to transpire. That stems my impression of romanticism. And I would like to think this way cause it matches my ideals.

I need it to be like that.

--oOo--