What if my whole life was nothing but a dream, an illusion a figure of the imagination or something of that sort? As if I were never to have challenges and struggles in my life, would love exist then. Would I be considered a contradiction to my creation, my birth, all that I have ever known? Life is difficult it is not as if there was an instruction manual along with the fluid that came from my mother’s womb. Would my life in turn be a lie? Is my existence of no importance or would anyone be impractical enough to mold my soul to this THING that I know am forced to call MY body.
It was as if I was enslaved into my own imagination, neither confined within, unable to do as I pleased nor willing to peruse my own happiness. What definition would I have to call “happiness”, maybe that of a parallel world in my mind? The internal feelings I contain within my heart, hoping that one day it would rot with the remainder of my discarded carcass in the ground. I now find myself proposing the same question as earlier. Would I be considered a mockery of that I am to be classified as nonexistent, as I would be when I am dead?
My love to him was nothing more than a pure feeling an emotion that I could not comprehend, that we would not be able to understand. What did love mean … How did we possess it ….if my figure was merely but a dream? Did he imagine my creation, was he the one to fathom my thoughts or did God have anything to do with this. Was god even thought about through the process of my existence? Was he the one to tell me I will create HER in my image? Did he love me the way I believed him to how I could be abandoned at my time of need, did he ever listen to me and if so why didn’t he help me. Free me from myself. I would cry out, as if expecting a miracle to happen, a sign the slightest thought of a response.
All I received was an empty wretched heart and becoming unlovable, irresistible with my high heels, the heavy eye liner that hung beneath… so full of lustful desires were they. The thoughts of suspicion hung about between my creators, I knew he knew my true heart behind my deceitful face. Pure and beautiful just as it had been before I was born, when I was nothing more than a soul that would pertubate around the thoughts of laughter and happiness. But I was the one to ruin my happiness or did he ruin mine. He enticed me as if I were a slave to his voice lying to me fully knowing that he would leave without a second glance, leaving me empty. But he could not save me I had to save myself.
……….I awoke to the realization of life that it was but a dream.