Magic

As a naive kid, I used to believe in everything I’m told – doubt anyone else is spared from some of these immortal beliefs. I used to believe in God – I mean, isn’t it easy to explain inexplicable things by referring to the heavenly one? – I used to believe that toys will come to life after little children have long went to bed (no thanks to an endless diet of Enid Blyton’s books when I was younger), and yes, I used to believe in magic.

I used to run to these supernatural beliefs for comfort – even though a large part of me doubted such magic trickeries existed, one wonders at this conflicting belief. I guess that’s what draws me to a B-grade TV series like Charmed – wishing I could whip out a spell to end my troubles or off someone I hated.

I guess I took plenty of comfort in lots of wishing, and the SFX wonders of shows of humans with magical powers. Who doesn’t want to do what these supposedly ‘special’ people can do – telekinesis, pyrokinesis, levitation, flying and whatnot. Although I no longer relish nor believe in these things anymore (one can’t be a transitioner of 19 and believe in really naive things), my childhood interest has been rekindled thanks to the excellent TV series Heroes.

It’s embarrassing to be admitting this, but when I was younger, I had a book of spells collected from Charmed – and yes, I actually recite these incantations when I was feeling down or lonely, and I somehow felt protected that way. Or more likely, fooling myself that I’m being protected.

Funny for a non-believer.

Sometimes I lie awake at night, those few moments before moving on to a make-believe realm, I wish there’s a little magic in my life to bring me out of this perpetual cycle of absurdity – the absurdity of the big L, if you understand, so I can stop this endless cycle of hopeless hurt.

Wish I can just be a simple plebeian and forget all these.