The fact that I used to want to disappear, literally, into
books when I was younger doesn’t really help. I would imagine my life in some
other world and want to go there and picture all of my adventures. I used to
think my life was pretty boring, for whatever reason, and I wanted to go
somewhere exciting and dangerous. (To give context, I was also around the age
of 10 and hadn’t thought this all through.)
Even now, there are still things that I see or hear that
make me think of certain novels or a certain world and it really doesn’t help.
Because how do I know that I am not Don Quixote in a modern setting, maybe
everything I’m living is part of a book somewhere and the author is dictating
my fate as we speak? Existential questions like this don’t really help, but
it’s something to think about.
Don Quixote did end up regretting it in the end, which I
always found really sad. He’s on his deathbed yelling about what an idiot he
was, it’s pretty disappointing for an end to a novel that seems so whimsical. I
hope I don’t end up like that, but then again, I always seem to think that so
many things I do are ridiculous about 10 seconds after I do them.
But Don Quixote ended up being braver than all the rest
while under his delusions, why shouldn’t the same hold true for the rest of us?
Maybe we’re all capable of great things, we just have to be insane to figure it
out. Ideally this wouldn’t be the case, but you never know.
It’d be interesting if someone did a “modern Don Quixote”
story, or tried to find the equivalent today. It probably would involve
believing that you are stuck in a love story or a worthless teen novel or
something like that. Actually, maybe no one should ever look into that. Ever.
I’ve always had a special place in my heart for Don Quixote,
I think it’s because we’re fellow readers, trying to make sense of the world
and better our lives through books. And that line between sanity and madness is
much finer than we all think.
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