Tuesday, 28 January 2014


War was on.

A girl traveled the empty streets of her homeworld, evading the military of another world, who had recently invaded the land. Their crafts hovered above, trying to trace her down, and she hoped she could get to the safe house. She was vital in overpowering the invading forces, having heaps of knowledge on them, gained before they found out she was a spy.

Through a park full of uncaring children, and along a busy street, she arrived, having successfully evaded the crafts. She went up the stairs to her computer.

The imaginary worlds I created as I walked from place to place weren't always like that, but often were. Exciting and dangerous, or full of mystery and plain weirdness. At a younger age, I was a superhero, able to fit through very thin gaps and escape the school playground. At other times, the school playground turned into a chocolate factory. I might be a prisoner, or a police officer in wild car chases. I would teach my toys things, like numbers and other things. This was the fun side.

Then there was the more mundane side, venting/talking to someone about bullies and siblings and how things were confusing and stuff like that. I ended up in arguments a lot during lessons, and it was really frustrating and confusing. People were confusing.

Imaginary worlds weren't. They were straightforward. You're the police, now catch that bad guy. This is a chocolate factory, it makes chocolate. You're a spy, now go to the safe house which is also your dad's house. Completely predictable, unlike the real world.

Chirp reality. The world of imagination is far more awesome. They even have their own number, i (the square root of -1), as well as all the other complex numbers.

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