The “Real World” is Scary

It’s been a productive morning so far. There were waffles and Doctor Who (by the way, good episode. Had a good fright factor.) and getting the rest of the stuff I wanted from the apartment. It’s kind of nice to have the “college student” portion of my life be officially over.

What comes next is by far more frightening. The real world. Though, I don’t like calling it that. It implies that the world hasn’t been real up until this point. Like, somehow, things change when  you’re not a student anymore.

That’s just not true. Sure, there’s no more meal plan to keep you afloat. There’s no more guaranteed roof over your head or electricity no matter what. Bills become more… tangible. You live and die by your ability to make money. That’s the scary part.

It’s even scarier when you decide to put all your hopes and dreams out there for the world to see. Most of my friends intend to make their life through creative means. Together, we form these crazy worlds in our minds. We travel to places that don’t exist yet, but will when we finish creating them.

Magic does exist. It’s in every brush stroke, every word on the page. I am an alchemist, turning experience into words and transmuting them into something the reader can internalize. Transported to another place and time, it’s why I write. It’s why people read. The better the storyteller, the better the illusion is.

I’m going to spin my tales in hopes that the world outside likes them enough to pay me money so I can keep coming up with stories and not have to get a day job. I think that’s what all creative types hope for though. That, and a plentiful supply of caffeine.

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