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 Posted: Fri Aug 17, 2012 11:05 am
"Those who escape from reality, have no right to live in a fantasy..." Hnnnn...get back to this. Just goes to show that I have no friends XD
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Posted: Fri Aug 17, 2012 11:06 am
"Those who escape from reality, have no right to live in a fantasy..."
Epigraph
Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
"The Hollow Men" by T.S. Eliot
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Posted: Fri Aug 17, 2012 8:13 pm
"Those who escape from reality, have no right to live in a fantasy..." xxThose who escape from reality, have no right to live in a fantasy.
xxWhy is that? I never understood it until now. When I was first sucked into that world, I never wanted to leave. That was my dream...my utopia. It was everything I wanted, and everything I could hope for. If I was born in a world as painful as this, I didn't want to be a part of it. Creating my own world. That was what my hands were made for. Creating any world. They could do it all. Those smooth, long fingers that seemed to glide over a rivulet of melodies. The dream world appeared, just as I willed it to. It embraced me; allowed me into its arms. Accepted me for who I am. Not once, has anyone ever done that. They've tried before. In the end, it just tore me apart and made me what I am today. However, the worlds I create never reject me. Not unless I want them to. I can do anything and go anywhere. This power courses through my body. I can leave behind reality forever.
xxMelding my fingers into the world I create, all there is to do is to just let go. My reality is this rotten world. Disgusting and repulsive. I can leave it behind so easily. I hesitate, and something stops me from doing so. From under my fingertips, a malevolent smoke arises. It reaches out hungrily, shrouding my vision and strangling me in its raven claws. The atrocious smell of burning ashes shatters the remainder of my soul. In seconds, everything is over. The smoke releases me from its crushing grip, and I fall into the void. In an instant, everything is gone. The last precious remainders of my soul is gone. Nothing remains but myself, laying in a garden of ashes. My soul has always been fragile, weaving between the borderline of breaking. The death of it has always been inevitable. I was just too blind to see it until now. My hesitation was the last push it needed. This is my sin. This is reality.
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Posted: Fri Aug 17, 2012 8:17 pm
[ Message temporarily off-line ]
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