Random Musings

Sometimes I wonder if there is something wrong with me.

They tell me I have a great imagination but, what kind of person imagines murders, gore & death?

What kind of person imagines emptiness, sorrow & despair?

What kind of person obsesses on such things?

I try to tell myself it's okay because I imagine love & happiness too but, even those I turn to heartache, tales of tragedy & woe.

Is this the curse of the artistic mind?

Are we, those of us who dream in every shade of colour possible, forced to feel such torment or do we choose it?

Or are we the normal ones?

Art speaks volumes to those who listen but, sometimes I wish no body listened to mine because I fear their judgement.

I fear that they will read my words & pronounce me insane yet, at the same time, I fear that they won't read it because, what would be the point of it if no body read it?

Is this the curse of the artistic mind?

Am I ready to carry such a load?

Where do all these pieces go?

How do so many thoughts, feelings, ideas & imaginings fit into one mind? One body?

Am I somehow bigger on the inside like the Doctor's TARDIS?

Does it really even matter how?

Maybe not.

Where would I be without all this clutter?

Who would I be?

Well, I know one thing for sure...

I wouldn't be me.

Hello. I'm Chanelle & I have an overactive imagination.

©CJ