Reality versus Fantasy
Sunday, February 21, 2010 10:56 PM

I suppose it’s the way I spend my showers. The way my showers turn into baths. I yearn for something warm to envelop every crevice of my body, a sense of security. All the while I dunk my head low enough to stop all sound from coming in, only the roaring pulses of blood making its way through my veins. But high enough to have clear view of my obscure ceiling. It’s not flat nor simple, but an array of cracks and crooked lines that dance across the surface with such grace of that of a ballerina. I speculate what these cracks should become if it had life. Lives unfold before my eyes and scenes so spectacular I almost lose myself for a minute. For a minute so divine.
Instead, reality taps my shoulder and incessantly reminds me that he’s still here. As much as I love him, time apart is so clean and renewing. But he doesn’t mind. He supports my journey through the unknown and the imaginative.
Fantasy is ever so fleeting, alluding my grasp on her. So beautiful and cruel yet twisted and kind. She fits in the palm of my hand, molding herself to the outlines of my interests. But like all, she expects freedom and whisks away back into the depths of the exotic.
As I feel disappoint rush in, reality holds my hand to remind me that he will always be here for me.  Always.

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