I spent some time on the river and for awhile told people I was a sailor.
I casually explained how I spent my days surrounded by nothing but the blue; battling creatures of the deep and Mother Nature herself in her greatest venue.
But that was only my imagination.
I walked in the woods by my house for an afternoon and for awhile told people I was a hunter.
I recalled times where I'd spent days on end stalking my prey, moving swiftly and silently through the colossal forests I'd grown to call my home; relying solely on myself and my primal instincts to stay alive.
But that was only my imagination.
I wrote some words and for awhile told people I was poet.
I regaled them with elaborate stories woven with imagery and emotion, which were crafted with the greatest of ease. I revealed that with a simple tale I could draw a tremendous crowd, and have the children laughing while the adults sat misty-eyed, reminiscing on days past.
But that was only my imagination.
I considered giving the vagrant on my corner some change and for awhile told people I was a famous tycoon.
I briefly described my youth spent earning my millions with a cutthroat ferocity, but also how I was now defined by my remarkable philanthropy. I was adored by the masses for my role as a model of charity.
But that was only my imagination.
I spent some time with a girl and for awhile told myself I was in love.
I knew that we were happy and nothing would ever change. I dreamed that our love would grow with each and every passing day, while we grew old in each other's embrace.
But that too was only my imagination.