I'm in a world of pretend, and i can't escape because i am on my own in this situation. I make believe my own realities and accept the false things that occupy my mind. In those moments between sanity and breaking, i like to imagine that i had always had friends, which is me lying to myself. I am a pirate of this world, sailing across the seas, just as wet and salty as my tears on my ship of silver named something familiar as melancholy. All aboard my vessel of sorrows and mourn for whatever purpose! It's only real in my mind... Just a ghost with emotions, wasted on such pitiful human affairs. In my imagination, i fly high with feathered wings and suddenly they are burning and i am falling, then i am plunged into the depths of the cold ocean of my own loneliness and the current grasps my body and turns and twists it in the tide, until i am washed up on the beach of my awaiting exile. Here i am... A pariah, whom will never find what i search for, no matter how much i plunder and steal from other vessels. I stand on the sand, chilled and damp, seaweed reaching for me, coming back into reality of just how much my imagined world so resembles my wants and still i never get them.
But. It's. All. Fake. Emerald_Electro
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