When I was a little girl one of the worst disappointments of my life was the realization that SciFi and Fantasy things I loved were not real. There was no magic, no fairies in the garden no vampires in castles. I would never be able to shoot fireballs out of my hand nor fly of my own will. Life was mundane. I was average. And the world had suddenly lost it’s sparkle.
But this blog post is about my fear if these things really were real.
If I were on Star Trek I’d be a Vulcan poised and contained in the face of all adversity. If Potterverse were real I’d be in the house of Slytherin ambitious and proud. If I were in X-men verse I’d be a teleporter as questionable as Gambit. If I was on Middle Earth I would be a Numenorian looking over the White City. I would be a witch, a vampire, a goddess, a psychic, an inter-galactic hitchhiker and time traveler, a demon. I would be a great thing.
But what I’m most afraid of is that I wouldn’t. I worry that in the magical world like the one I love to watch or read I would be nothing. I would just simply be me. I’m average, nothing extraordinary about me in this life. How much worse would I feel? And so sometimes I’m glad it’s not real because then I don’t have to feel so bad for leading an average boring life because I wasn’t born extraordinary. None of us were. Yes, some of us rise above the rest. I have enough of a complex about those people without adding a world full of Marvel and DC characters to envy.
I have looked into the Total Perspective Vortex and I have seen that I am nothing.