Overactive Imagination Novels & Stories

It was on me. Something clearly was wrong with me today. However, I wasn't sure if it was the body or the mind. Or maybe it was both. It wasn't like I hadn't seen half-n*ked men before. But why did Oswin make me feel different? Why was he the only one who made me imagine some strange fantasy—a kind of imagination that was inappropriate for an underage? I tried closing my eyes, using my eyelids as a shield to block his bare chest from my mind. Sadly, the image refused to leave my head. I tried holding my breath, hoping to block another one of my five senses, thinking it would help.

He was trying to reason with his racing mind, but every attempt to calm himself only fueled his panic further. The images of Xavier and Alessa together kept replaying in his head, each time worse than the last. He pictured them talking, then laughing, then—no. His imagination was spiraling out of control, filling the gaps with scenes he didn’t want to believe but couldn’t help imagining.

Something that raises every hair on your body, makes you freeze, forget how to breathe. I’m losing it. I’m literally losing it. My imagination is running wild, making everything bigger, stranger, than it really was. It’s all in my head. It has to be. I shake myself, trying to banish the thoughts, but my hand lingers on the marks on my shoulder. No. Everything was just really intense, that’s all. My body’s in overdrive, my brains fried, and I clearly need more sleep and a solid grip on reality. Because otherwise, what the hell am I even thinking?

I don’t know how to describe the beginning of something. Maybe you could be able to describe the beginning of something without missing out in a lot of details. My inability to describe the beginning of something doesn’t mean that I can’t be helpful in a lot of areas. It is a known fact only to me that I could discern little or nothing while wearing a skimpy cloth that doesn’t fit properly to my body. I could lay down on a hard-narrow concrete road with snares of psychosis tangling me and still mot feel the effect of it until I wake up from my deep slumber. It is kind of funny that my imaginations don’t matches with a lot of people’s perspectives about imaginations but can I blame myself for

A door that closes without slamming. I grip the edge of the table until my knuckles hurt. No. That’s not real. That’s stress. That’s suggestion. That’s my mind trying to build patterns because patterns feel safer than chaos. But even as I try to dismiss it, the memory doesn’t fade. It sits behind my eyes like a shadow. And the worst part is—it doesn’t feel like imagination. It feels like recall.

Clothing could hide the scars on my body but even makeup could only hide a percentage of damage sustained to my face. Imagination can be both a blessing and a curse, depending on the mindset of the beholder. It's limitless but also grueling and tiresome. The paranoia that manifests with an imaginative mind causes more harm than good. The unnecessary pain a person can cause themselves by altering the perception of flashback memories, makes things seem much more horrendous than in reality. I'm not saying that having an imagination is wrong. Not at all. We can all fantasize without becoming a fantasist. I had always been a practical thinker. I was a realist by nature. There wasn't much point in

he stated plainly. (A/N: I wish I could just put the scene the way it was running in my mind. He was acting like a total maniac at the back of my head. Like some psycho. This was what I had in my mind while writing this scene + what a maniac is he... Oh God)

He surely knew the ways to safely get out of the woods. But still my heart rate was increasing due to anxiety. "What if we get caught? He may end up being a rogue for trying to save me,'' I thought."Or what if we get caught by the sapphires in the woods? They will either kill us or torture us to the level where death would be the escape," I shivered thinking.

I replied. " Okay now I see where the problem comes from. You need to rest like I said. Sometimes, our brain can interpret things that look so real and we might end up visualizing them to be so real. And things like this mostly happen when we are so occupied with work and family issues. You get confused, depressed and most times frustrated that you tend to hear things you shouldn't hear, believe things you shouldn't believe and lastly, see things that are not actually existing." She explained.

“Is this some kind of dimension or something?!” I asked qualmed. My eyes moved faster than I knew it could. I was being very protective of myself, I stood in one spot waiting for what would happen next and just then I fell from where I was as though the ground broke open,I let out a loud scream. ‘ I can actually fly…. or is it levitation??. Whatever!’ I thought out of frustration. I remembered the most awful moments of my life and the only thing that could emotionally damage me at that level was the death of my father.