Being ultra sensitive and
owning a vivid imagination, I fantasise way too much. That’s great when it comes to sex, but it
also means that I don’t have enough of a grip on reality sometimes. Things that worry me, the worst case
scenarios that pop into my head at the first sign of anything not going to plan
(an offspring not coming home all night and not texting me/ a friend not
keeping in touch) pretty much always turn out not to be as negative as I have
painted it. This is good, except I’ve
wasted all that time knitting my brow.
But much worse I think are the things I imagine that are going to
provide some wondrous buzz, or be the provider of the vital stimulation and
fulfilment I ardently desire in life. A
project, a seemingly exciting opportunity I wasn’t expecting. I immediately
attach a kind of rose tinted importance to what seem to be positive happenings
and have to really claw my thoughts down to mother earth to sift through the
happy mist and see that perhaps they are not as good as they seem. I sometimes wish I was less childlike in this
respect, but then I am creative and it comes with the territory. Yes it does.
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