Her Imagination
I realized today that nothing endears me to a women like her imagination. If she does conversational acrobatics with her peerlessly sharp wit, i'll smolder. If she gives me a devilish wink with a purely angelic face, i'll be caught frozen between breaths. And, if she charms me with her charisma and unmistakable authenticity that is uniquely hers, I'll smile with thoughts of her when she isn't around. But, i'll only really love her for her imagination.
A derivative imagination that can only make distorted reflections of that which enters her perception shows me her mind is not her own. Her imaginative thoughts always carry the distinctive smell of being manufactured elsewhere. How can you love a book or a song that is just a bland copy of another? How can you fall in love with a girl with a mind like a mirror?
An imagination of pure novelty that is enraptured with popular culture, the superficial and anything that provokes simplistic emotion shows me her mind is child-like and vapid. Like a seven-course meal of candy bars, the initial moments of experiencing her can be quite wonderful...before quickly becoming painful and unsatisfying. How can you be happy eating pure sugar for every meal? How can you love a girl whose imagination is so small it can be contained and defined by the most vapid and paper-thin of thoughts?
A timid or tamed imagination that has no capacity to surprise or provoke shows me her mind is weak and stunted. She may hint at potential, but the fact that such a force could be restrained, muzzled or cowered so thoroughly makes it clear that the potential is more illusion than substance. She may perceive her anemic imagination as a victim of circumstance, opportunity or ignorance...or perhaps she may be not be aware of her terminal condition at all, but the situation speaks significantly louder to the truth than any excuse. How can one be moved by prose that isn't even strong enough to compel its writer to finish it? How can you love a girl whose imagination is so frail and sickly? If she can barely compel herself or her own thoughts, how will she ever compel a damn thing in this world?
I can hardly even discuss what it is like when she has basically no imagination. She may wear her knowledge, intelligence or success on her vest like a badge of honor, but how can such a person be loved? Perhaps only in the way a person can love an automobile or piece of furniture...as, without an imagination, what is left to love?
It is almost effortless to fall in love with a girl that has a beautiful imagination. She can take the mundane and forgettable and weave it into the fascinating and remarkable. She can crush obstacles and completely disarm antagonists with her inventive and mercurial ideas. She can create awe and inspiration out of thin air. But, uniquely her own. Her imaginative thought may be selfish or altruistic, technical or artistic, practical or useless, dark-hearted or light-hearted...as long they are hers. The finger-prints of her brilliance are scattered all over her thoughts, never letting me forget the most sincere version of who she is. What are beautiful faces and shapes next to this power? Does the warmth of shared interests or shared smiles utterly fade in the presence of such a thing? How can the walls containing my affection do no less?
"Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand."
How can you not love a girl who captures all that the world is and could be within her imagination?
A derivative imagination that can only make distorted reflections of that which enters her perception shows me her mind is not her own. Her imaginative thoughts always carry the distinctive smell of being manufactured elsewhere. How can you love a book or a song that is just a bland copy of another? How can you fall in love with a girl with a mind like a mirror?
An imagination of pure novelty that is enraptured with popular culture, the superficial and anything that provokes simplistic emotion shows me her mind is child-like and vapid. Like a seven-course meal of candy bars, the initial moments of experiencing her can be quite wonderful...before quickly becoming painful and unsatisfying. How can you be happy eating pure sugar for every meal? How can you love a girl whose imagination is so small it can be contained and defined by the most vapid and paper-thin of thoughts?
A timid or tamed imagination that has no capacity to surprise or provoke shows me her mind is weak and stunted. She may hint at potential, but the fact that such a force could be restrained, muzzled or cowered so thoroughly makes it clear that the potential is more illusion than substance. She may perceive her anemic imagination as a victim of circumstance, opportunity or ignorance...or perhaps she may be not be aware of her terminal condition at all, but the situation speaks significantly louder to the truth than any excuse. How can one be moved by prose that isn't even strong enough to compel its writer to finish it? How can you love a girl whose imagination is so frail and sickly? If she can barely compel herself or her own thoughts, how will she ever compel a damn thing in this world?
I can hardly even discuss what it is like when she has basically no imagination. She may wear her knowledge, intelligence or success on her vest like a badge of honor, but how can such a person be loved? Perhaps only in the way a person can love an automobile or piece of furniture...as, without an imagination, what is left to love?
It is almost effortless to fall in love with a girl that has a beautiful imagination. She can take the mundane and forgettable and weave it into the fascinating and remarkable. She can crush obstacles and completely disarm antagonists with her inventive and mercurial ideas. She can create awe and inspiration out of thin air. But, uniquely her own. Her imaginative thought may be selfish or altruistic, technical or artistic, practical or useless, dark-hearted or light-hearted...as long they are hers. The finger-prints of her brilliance are scattered all over her thoughts, never letting me forget the most sincere version of who she is. What are beautiful faces and shapes next to this power? Does the warmth of shared interests or shared smiles utterly fade in the presence of such a thing? How can the walls containing my affection do no less?
"Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand."
How can you not love a girl who captures all that the world is and could be within her imagination?