Childs Play

I want to live in a fort. One made of card tables and old blankets that smell like the closet. I want to live in play and pretend land away from others as they pollute my purity. My inner child likes playing and imagining. I want to live in a fort with others like me. I want to be a firefighter or an astronaut or Aquaman why not. Someone gets to be them. Why not me? Who says I can’t leap tall buildings in a single bound or cast a web to save people from falling? Physics, logic, impossibility? Poppycock. I don’t believe in “can’t.” I don’t believe in impossibility. Only in my imagination. I want to live in a fort. I want to retreat to the safety of imagination when seriousness wins over creativity. When reason wins over spontaneity. I want to live in a fort with my action figures and matchbox cars. No one can see me or know I’m there. I can go in my mind and play with all of my friends. Han, Luke, Chewy. The Six million dollar man. My true friends! Time out. Time in. I saved the world again! Hooray for the good guys. I want to live in a fort.


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