To miss you is to hold onto a fantasy, which as a result has no basis in reality.
Then this image of perfection turns to a false sense of reality.
The lines of lies and truth are indistinguishable blurred so that you will not know where you stand.
In truth you may not be standing at all.
Nor sitting but simply and complexly existing in a fantasy so elaborate you’ve lost your direction to the sincerity.
The validity of any action becomes obsolete as to a space of pointlessness.
In which these actions are taken there is non-existing legitimacy. Therefore we stand seemingly motionless however gliding at a pace unrecognizable by the human eye. Inside this Fantasy you can’t be seen. Invisibility takes place.
A space left open for denial.
A space left for the image of perfection to be produced.
Nothing seems capable of detaching this being from its fantasy yet within the fantasy you have become detached.
It’s the Irony in the Fantasy that draws you closer and closer.
Sucks you into its paradoxical existence.
The directions it can take are endless.
They are the creation of the creator.
This Fantasy is limitless.
Yes, a sigh of relief.
In an infinite space anything is possible.
Yet in the normalcy of reality there are limitations and bounds that must be followed.
How sad.
How depressing.
How bland.
How weak.
An unimaginative drab of an existence is a lack of fantasy.
It is THIS FANTASY in which you are alive.
Makes you thrive for existence.
THIS FANTASY reminds you there is more to this dreary, uninspiring, vapid, blah life we lead.
It’s a world untapped by many.
Those are the ones left passionless, imperturbable, unable to be upset or excited.
A calm and peaceful existence would claim to be the key to happiness.
I think otherwise.
With this tumultuous existence we thrive.
We grow.
We seek.
We inspire.
We are inspired.
We see the truth within the fantasy.
The lies become our reality.
We have created a spider web of perplexities we couldn’t begin to explain.