I used to be the best story teller. Or liar, which ever one you prefer to call me.
I was obsessed with NSYNC & Backstreet Boys. I constantly asked my friends if they for example
Me: " Did you guys watch the music awards last night?! "
My friends: " Yeah it was great! "
Me: " Did you see the moving bush by Justin's legs?" [No not Justin Bieber Justin Timberlake]
My friends: " Yeah!! " [Though there was no moving bush.]
Me: " That was me! "
I convinced them every time that I was at all these award shows or near my idols somewhere in new york and came to school the next day, I wonder whatever happened too the imagination we all once shared as children. We grow up? But why does that include loosing the lust of thinking such crazy thoughts or thinking of such crazy tales only a child could think of? Is it mandatory for us all to be 'mature' and 'grown up' but have no imagination at all? I believed in Santa till I was 11, now that I know he is only but a myth I wish I didn't know, the magic of thinking something like that could ever exist is so amazing to think of. Waking up Christmas morning, the cookies half eaten, the reindeer food half gone, presents under the glowing tree. None of that is ever the same now that I know It's not as magical as it appears. It's truly saddening! Do you like how I switch from one subject to another so quickly? I apologize, my mind wonders as I type.
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