AN: This is just a short little thing about getting lost in fiction and forgetting to live... so guys... i love you reading my work and please review ;) but don't forget to go out there and meet some people, because no artful manipulation of words can compare to the friends you can meet...

Imitation

As a child I used to love watching movies, I loved seeing the characters moving across the screen, sometimes smiling, sometimes crying. I was entranced. However as I grew older and reached my teens my love of film was replaced by a love of books, they offered a much richer view than the superficial one explored on screen. I fell in love, reading everything I could, fascinated by the stories and particularly the characters that unfolded in my mind. Books allowed me to be privy to the innermost thoughts and fears of another, reassuring that my own insecurities were normal. Truthfully it was the self-realisation of the hero that hooked me, both on film and books, but it was far too long before I made the connection between fiction and life.

For too many years I immersed myself in a make believe world where people discovered themselves, through often startling revelations. Never did I think about myself that way, that I had things to discover. Until one day when I finally did.

I was static.

Unmoving, stationary, inactive, fixed, immobile. It didn’t matter which you used, they all meant the same thing, I wasn’t going forward or backward, I was just a lump that everybody stepped over on their own path.

Finally a new world was revealed to me far more engaging than any film I ever saw or book I’d ever read.

Reality.

It was less perfect, less clear cut. I was accustomed to structure: beginning, middle and then end. Reality offered chaos where the beginning blurred into the end of the previous story and it became difficult to determine whether a new story started at all.

Fiction I realised was a poor imitation to reality, for watching on is no match for joining in.