I am like that too, my imagination is my greatest strength and my worst downfall. I love my little world of my imagination unless my imagination goes off the clift somewhere and takes my sanity with it.
I have been to art school, won 2 art contests, had my own gallery show, and written poetry for 20 years and could probably publish pretty easily except for my executive functioning difficulties make it difficult to meet deadlines which was the hardest part of art school. The skill was there, the imagination was there, but time managment was not.
I want to finish school to be an art therapist for those with autism because I know how much that art gave me a voice when nothing else would.
I have at least 5 art projects going at the same time, almost all the time, so when I lose interest in one, I just pick up and finish the other one.
However, my imagination has lead to some phenominal mental breakdowns in the past, expecially before going on medicine for OCD.
I have had clean breaks with reality because of my imagination, so it is my salvation, and my destruction all wrapped in one.
As I grew older, I learned how to allow the good creativity to flourish and to control the bad aspects of it with a combination of medication and behavioral therapy.
Unlike the experts say, I can can imagine social situations, but my accuracy of what I imagined it to be, and how it actually turns out are way off. I hated playing house as a kid...I was much happier pretending to be an animal of sorts...sometimes even mythical ones that I totally made up.
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All art is a kind of confession, more or less oblique. All artists, if they are to survive, are forced, at last, to tell the whole story; to vomit the anguish up.
-James Baldwin