If you ever want to understand how my mind works, I can sum it up for you in once short sentence.
I am a logical scientist who believes she is in a story.
Or, more specifically, the prologue or very first chapters of a story. Now what I'm not saying is that I actually believe that someone is turning the pages of a book or the like - this is neither Fushigi Yuugi nor The Neverending Story. What I'm saying is that deep in the most fundamental parts of my mind, my naive inner child is clinging to the knowledge that her story must start some day.
This means that I exist in a state of near-constant mental turmoil, at least when it is allowed to rise to the surface. The logical scientist part of my mind knows that statistically, I am likely to live and die an average life just like the billions of people before me whose names have been lost to history. On the other hand, my inner 8-year-old looks up to the moon every night and prays to a God she doesn't really believe in that the TARDIS will come and take her away, or maybe that one of these days when she pushes up with both feet and believes hard enough she won't be pulled back down by gravity, or that maybe this time she'll be able to disperse her atoms into the ground and flow along through the soil. These are all thought processes I have regularly. I live in a world that I know can't really contain magic, except that it has to. I know that I'm just like everyone else, but I can't be.
Essentially, I feel like I'm trapped in the prologue to an awesome story that may never get told. But that's enough for now; there will be more to come tomorrow.
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