Today I finished a book that I really liked. I don't like this. Finishing books I like makes me sad. It reminds me that all the wonderful things that just took place in my head, the love, the heartbreak, the courage, none of it really happened. I went jogging after and this allowed me to ponder about the book some more as I ran. It made me wonder why it is that I like books so much. Besides the fact that books offer an escape from reality for me, I suppose that another thing I really like is the action. Now, I understand some books don't involve a lot of action, but then usually a lot of thinking is involved. Something happens. I suppose maybe I just enjoy living in illusion for a while, in a place where life is fleeting, life is risky, life is different. It is these kind of books that leave me with a feeling of sadness. I think maybe this is because I envy the fictional reality of the book. That is not to say that my life isn't exciting. But I have to admit it is pretty safe. I (so far) have not been in any situations in which I was forced to be brave or act in a certain drastic way. A situation in which my life was at stake. Now I imagine people from some century of unrest would turn around in their graves, uncomprehending the desire to make a perfectly safe life more dangerous, and I would have to agree, it sounds absurd. Nevertheless I sometimes feel like people who lived in times of war, who lived in fear and who fought for their lives, like these people lived a fuller life than I do. They lived short lives, but intense ones, too. Comparable to a candle that burns bright but short. Mine is steady and long (hopefully, lol). I wish I knew what kind of person I would be in such a time, would I be brave? Strong? Or cowardly and weak? I'll probably never find out.

It seems that the analogy of the books can be extended to movies and music as well, why do we like movies so much? Watch other people lead exciting lives, hear people sing about intense feelings and experiences? Are we bored, perhaps? Is fiction the example set from which we try to imitate out lives to appear equally exciting? I'm pretty happy with my life. Of course, it's as exciting as I choose to make it. But I still wonder what would happen if I was put in a risky situation not by choice but by force of necessity.