I’m a girl who wants to be stuck in a fantasy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I’ve plunged deeper and deeper into a world I’ve created and farther and farther from the real world I belong in.
The world I live in isn’t something that’s beautiful. It’s life, I guess. It’s not supposed to be beautiful, it’s supposed to be real. But, after seventeen years, I still can’t accept that. I don’t want to live in a world where nothing ever goes the way it’s supposed to go. A world where there is no happiness. People here are delusional. They’ve created these fake situations of love and peace and family that make them think this world is a better place. But, no matter how many times they paint over it, I can still see the cracks. I am still unsatisfied. I am not able to grasp what’s so important—so valuable about reality. For all intents and purposes, fantasy seems more real than reality. I will not be satisfied until I can find escape. I want to dive inside a book and get lost in a world where monsters and angels exist. They exist in this world too, but they hide themselves with human faces. This world tries so hard to pretty itself up and hide all its shortcomings. Fantasy shows you things exactly the way they are—where evil is evil and good is good. In reality, light and darkness are just one big blob of gray. You can never distinguish until it’s too late. In fantasy, light and darkness are distinct and beautiful in their own way. You can never truly hate in fantasy. Hate does not exist. Because you cannot hate something for being created the way they are, just as you can never hate the sky for being blue or the wind for blowing in your hair. You know people in this world are worth hating because they’re never who they’re supposed to be and they shun those who do as they do.
Happy endings exist in the world that I love. True love, endless adventure, never a dull moment. A flower can be its own beautiful self without the corruption of the poisons of the world. It’s an ideal place where evil can never succeed and where everything is true. There are no lies in fantasy, no pretending. You can hide from the terror and the ugliness of reality. That’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted. To run away from what the world has made me, from what I turned myself into. To never see the faces of the people who make me feel hatred and sadness and shame. To be able to sleep at night, knowing that the day ahead promises happiness and not tedious misery.
I can no longer live in this world.