Phantastic.

I often think about my life (haha, understatement). One of the things I think about is how my life should be, as in, how the “story” of my life would work out if everything went my way. It’s basically a fairy tale land, and I’m the hero. I save people, I suffer tragedy and bounce back, I die and rise again, I get the girl, etc. I come up with ridiculous scenarios and make a story of me out of them, or I twist real life events into something story-worthy. This is a small reason why my memory is sometimes so spotty: I don’t always trust it due to the slightly confabulatory nature of my mind. This is not to say I make up memories, but I sometimes mix up the fake with the real for a second, and sometimes I confabulate some things that are extremely similar to real life, and thus get confused.

But anyway, in this fairy tale land I am virtually always successful, or whatever events I plan out always go perfectly according to plan. It’s quite fun to imagine.

However, I’ve realized that I’m so very glad that my daydreams and illusions of grandeur never come true. Why, if it may be asked?

Because real life almost always, in the long run, works out better than I could ever hope for. Even for long tracts of time (subjective, I know, but go with it) where things are going wrong, they always become righted, somehow, eventually, without fail.

I think, for this, I am thankful.