A sign that I'm creative, not strange...or, maybe both...

Much of the time I live in fantasy, not really interacting with the reality around me. . .


Fantasy Darcie is never awkward.

She knows how to make conversation and be witty, without overwhelming people with too much information.

Fantasy Darcie is coordinated, and better yet, in shape. She weighs 125ish, and never has trouble finding clothes to fit.

Fantasy Darcie has a job that develops her talents and passions while providing her with enough income to cover bills and have fun. She never has to borrow money from her parents.

Fantasy Darcie is well liked, and most importantly, she likes herself.

Fantasy Darcie never has never suffered from a crisis of faith and is consistently finding ways to share love and truth with others.

Fantasy is great, until reality shatters the mystic world I have carefully constructed in my mind, like a wrecking ball meant for my total destruction. Then I'm forced to face a true reflection of myself. . . the clumsy, awkward, overweight, self-conscious doubter in a meaningless job. . . and I don't like what I see.





***At least I'm not the only crazy one.