Everybody has their own little fantasies. As a girl with an active imagination, I admit, I probably have more than my simple share of fantasies. Some of them can be long, complex, and complete stories, while others are short little blurbs that are sparked in my mind by some simple event.

Of course, I have some fantasies that are my favourites… Fantasies that are like favourite novels, played over and over in my mind… the edges worn thin, the story changing only ever so slightly with time and experiences. I don’t know if I’ll ever grow out of these.

My worst mistake is hoping that these idle fantasies will become more than just a fantasy. Certain people that I’ve known have had a knack of knowing what’s exactly in my mind… knowing exactly what to say to fill that familiar blank space after something I say… simply understanding me. Others… simply don’t… Or perhaps they don’t care to let me indulge in my little happinesses… There’s nothing much that I can do about it but be deeply and utterly disappointed when something I almost expectantly wait for (like presents on christmas day) however little, doesn’t occur.

I’ve learned to deal with this, somewhat, though by doing these things for myself sometimes. It eases the pain. A little. A masturbation of the mind, if you will, I pleasure myself by indulging in things that I wish others will do for me that they ultimately will not because they would never think of it.

It’s two different experiences completely; simply being with a person who knows what I want more than I do, and being with a person who is oblivious or apathetic to the things that fly through my mind.