Overactive Imagination

What does it say about my mind, if I ponder a strangers life?

In a second, my mind flashes – and I wonder about their shape, their tastes, their soul, the dark corners of their mind? 

Is it a matter of perversion? Am I THAT guy? The sleaze? Or am I just of a sexual nature, of a curious nature, pondering.
A woman behind the counter smiles, and I think about what that smile might look like years ago. And does she smile, not for me, but for herself when she is alone? 

A dad sternly tells his child to sit still, his wife and he exchange glances. What is their life like away from their kids, behind closed doors?
It isn’t a matter of being a pervert, I don’t think. I just think it’s a heightened sense of thinking. I’ve always had an overactive imagination. I’ve always thought too much and too deeply. 
People’s lives fascinate me. It’s something I love about this blog – hearing from people, getting to know them. Checking my email is exciting for me, though of late, it’s been empty, routinely cleaned. Chat to me? I’m sure I have a marble of knowledge to pass on. Maybe. 
I always feel guilty about thinking too deeply. Like it’s wrong to dig deep, to think about the raw nature of a person. To open that door. 

I’m not gawking at women left right and centre, it’s more that I watch everybody. Women, men, children, families, the middle aged woman behind the counter with the sad smile. Maybe it’s the writer in me?
I was looking at Facebook earlier. A post of a science fiction movie came my way, the image featured a woman, nude, knees bent hiding her breasts and vagina, and my mind skipped to the intensely erotic: 
What if she was held in a pod full of water, breathing through a tube connected from the device to her mouth.
What if there were machines, pulling at her legs, testing her desire, exploiting it. Like she was a pet to an unseen scientist. 

Does my mind always go to the sexual? Sometimes. My wandering mind tends to cross over into my high sex drive. But I guess what it comes down to is that I think too deeply.
And what I wanted to write, as the night heads into the witching hour, was that it’s okay to think deeply, about the people around you, about their minds, dreams, fears, relationships, desires and more. 
I wouldn’t advise going too far down the rabbit hole – unless you’ve got a guide to help you come back to Earth. But is it something you should hide from? Try to repress? 
No. Absolutely not. 


10 thoughts on “Overactive Imagination

      1. Well, I don’t know if what I have is talent or skill but I thank you for your kind words.

        But It’s just a muscle you can build and train. Write and write more. Keep writing and rewriting. You’d be surprised at what you come up with.

        I’m certainly happy to read anything you put out if you need advice or someone to read.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I’m dyslexic. That’s my issue. Luckily my callers have good imaginations. So what I write is laid out for me before Iv written a word…thanks for the offer. That’s kind


  1. I wonder what you would think when You saw me behind my shop counter … smells of petrol filling your head … engine parts scattered around, oil and grease and big burly men all about. what would You be wondering of the girl behind the counter in white jeans, long men’s shirts and corsets and hair in ribbons. Would You ask for ropes and shackles and wonder if this strange posh English rose really was as innocent as she seemed…


    1. I usually ponder about where people have come from, if they’re happy where they are, why they chose that place of work.

      And beneath that, I wonder what’s behind that smile, where this love for white Jeans, long men’s shirts and corsets stems from. How it shapes your tastes.


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