Originally posted on Follow Your Bliss Austin:
I often have a hard time with reality. As a child, people called it an “overactive imagination.” I would see magic and intrigue in the most mundane of household objects. I secretly hoped I was adopted because it meant there was a possibility my real parents were sorcerers. I wanted my parents to send me to boarding school so I could have adventures with other kids. Find secret rooms and caves. Stumble upon a world unseen by adults. I firmly believed I would learn to fly at some point. This mind of mine also kept me up at night. In the shadows of my room, lurked the creepy and crawly. Ghosts were outside my window, just waiting for me to close my eyes. I won’t embarrass myself by telling you at what late age I stopped sneaking into my parents’ bedroom so I wouldn’t be alone.
As I grew up…
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