What is the point of knowing what will happen, if truly living is knowing that you will eventually die, but never knowing when… never knowing so that you can make sure that every moment of your life is worth it. Still, many people wish to know the future, wish to know who is the one who will take away pain and misery, wish to know when they will meet first love, and of course...when they will die. It is knowledge and reality that they use for the foundations of their life. But who can say that reality means more than and is more important dreams, when dreams are what we cling to when reality is too inescapably harsh. When dreams are what we can escape to from life when it is to real for us to cope. And when we wish to die, is it not dreams, that we are giving up, it is reality that we forsake to embrace the cool blackness of death that is welcomed by tormented ones with open arms… to give up reality seems a small price to pay to see loved ones once more.
In this tormented state, dreams are the only comfort that we can salvage from the wreckage of tears and pain…and yet still we hold onto those chains of butterflies that are our dreams, that are floating ever swiftly away on the wind, dragged along by a current of unforgivable reality, taking with them the only anchor we doomed souls have to this world…
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Chains of Butterflies
FantasyEven before I saw my entire gypsy coven murdered and my home destroyed, my life has been hell. Born with only one normal eye, I have had to struggle to stay in the real world, not be pulled along the current of constant dreams into another dimension...
