I always had a strange obsession with magic. I use the term obsession lightly though, as I grew up in the Wammy house. What I feel towards magic, is nothing to how I eat chocolate, how to Matt plays videogames and smokes, or to how Near fidgets. It was more of a fascination that was shoved into the deepest depths of my mind until it was staring me right in my cold blue eyes.
I sometimes believe in magic, for even everything I strive to prove, and even though I hate to admit it, there are some unexplainable things. I want there to be unexplainable, impossible, brain numbing mysteries. I like when people do something you totally did not expect, like pulling a rabbit out of a hat. It's what makes life interesting.
Not only this, but if you ever look at the audience during a performance. Every single in the crowd wants to know how they just cut someone in half, how they guessed the proper card, how objects change or vanish under a piece of black fabric. They are enthralled. The magician is like a god with a million sparkling, enchanted eyes watching their every move. Slick hands, tricks, and an adventure of rehearsed words take you somewhere you would never imagine on your own. Then you wonder how they disappear. Or in my case, why I disappeared. Although I believe it was only Matt who thought that. I doubt anyone else would have missed me.
But like the tricks on the stage, once you know how the trick is done, it loses the effect, and everything about it becomes cheap. Which I am told I am. Sometimes I agree, but most of the time I stick up a leather clad finger and tell them to go fuck themselves with a knife. Magic does this too, when a new trick, or one that stumps you is performed. There is nothing better in the world.
Well, maybe some chocolate.