"I actually do that a lot." She tells me. She looks over her shoulder and smiled a little. And I don't know how to respond. What to respond.
"Daydream. Imagine." She grins. And I want to tell her how beautiful she looked that way, looking over her shoulder, grinning, her hair falling on the side of her face but not covering it, her sitting there, hugging her knees.
She took her gaze off of me and looked at what's in front of her. City lights look so good from up here, with stars accompanying them. They look so perfect. When you're away from it, when there's distance between, but when you're in it. That's where that perfect image gets blurry, and get replaced with what's real.
"Why don't you believe in it?" She suddenly speaks. Do I want to tell her the truth? That in this matter, I disagree with her? Maybe. Oh must I forget. This girl likes arguments.
"I just think it's pointless. You'd imagine something, of course according to what you'd want, but it won't ever become true anyway. It's never going to be real. And it will just ruin you thinking that it could have gone the way you wanted it to, but it didn't. It couldn't." I explain. She smiles the smile that tells me she's in, she's ready to state what she believes in and she's pretty confident about it.
"Oh, there's that sign. Shoot." She laughs and gestures me to sit beside her, and I do. I force myself to look at the view in front of us, instead of stare at her.
"I just never thought of it that way. The pessimism is so thick." She laughs. "When you do it that waybit's not imagination anymore, you're hoping, that it would go that way. Imagining's got few rules, but it's hard to follow them. Gotta seperate what's real and what isn't."
I "daydream" a lot, you know. Even until now. And there has been many times where I dream of many things.
I often dream about a life, or different lives, that aren't at all perfect, but a life I would like to live. A scenario I want to happen, or something big, something far from what I have right now. And I like it. I like being able to live them, being able to create it the way I want." She looks at me and I do the same. She smiles and I refuse to let her see my reaction.. because I want to hear more of what she has to say.
"In this life of ours we believe we don't control much due to technicalities, so it feels good to be able to grasp the complete control over something." The passion in her actions and voice intensifies, this I always notice.
"And it's exclusive, you know. It's something you don't have to share if you don't want to, something you can always call only yours, something no one around you can control. It's something that is truly, completely yours. Your imagination. Your dreams." She laughs a little laugh.
"I feel silly saying these things with just you staring at me." She tells me something I already know.
I roll my eyes, "It's fine. Continue."
She focuses in the stars. "And imaginations don't have limits. Dream whatever you please. No limitations, no errands, no nothing. The only "weakness" it can have would probably be: it's not true. It's only in your head." She pauses and contemplates a little.
"But then if your imagination becomes your reality, how would you be able to completely control it? It will lose every good thing about it being only an imagination, because reality is another story. Do you get what I'm trying to say?"
And I didn't answer her. I just looked up at the sky with her, because the truth is, I do.
