Fantasy Land

I live in a fantasy world.

I dream about things I enjoy,

People I love,

Things that make me happy,

Stories that give me hope.

I dream in color.

I keep my mind busy.

I do not have time to think about my depression,

So I escape,

Through my fantasy world.

How else can I handle reality?

Truth is,

I do not handle it.

All I do is go through the motions of life.

I do what I am told to,

Say what I should,

And act like a good being.

But there is a part of me that does not care anymore,

That part of me wants to burst out,

And scream,

And turn me into somebody else.

I cannot be who I am today,

Pleasing others,

All because I do not want to disappoint.

It is sad really,

That I cannot be who I want to,

All because I am afraid of disappointing.

I live for others,

When I should live for myself,

And for God.

But that is my reality,

And I cannot stand it.

So I run,

As fast,

And as far as my feet,

Heart,

And mind can take me.

I escape.

To a fantasy land.

It is about me.

Who I aspire to be.

Who I desire to love and be loved by.

And no,

Some of the people who you think would be in fantasy land,

Are not there.

I have cut them from my fantasy life,

Because I do not deem them as people I love,

Or things that make me happy.

They have only caused me pain,

So why have pain in a place of happiness?

If my fantasy land is an escape,

From all the bad,

Criticism,

Judgment,

Standard of society,

Standards of parents,

Teachers,

Friends,

Yourself,

Why not keep it that way?

An escape.

I like to run.

Running keeps me going head strong.

When I cannot find hope,

I run to my thoughts.

I seek it out in words,

In songs,

In love.

But these things exist in reality.

And I do not live there,

So I stop running to reality’s version of hope,

And I run to my own.

I run to what makes me happy.

And if he is what makes me happy,

So be it.

I have tried,

For so very long,

To make everyone around me see that,

I am only one human being.

I can only do,

And take so much.

I am a sensitive girl.

I am a worthless,

Sensitive girl.

I leave my heart on my bloody sleeve,

For anybody to take a lashing at.

I let people beat my heart when they are having their bad days.

I let people thrown sticks and stones at me.

I let people treat me less than what I am worth,

Because I feel that I am worth nothing in reality.

But in my fantasy world,

Pleasing people is not my goal.

I am worth something there.

I know that,

And I do not have to try to prove that to me.

People see me for who I am,

The girl with the broken smile,

But big heart.

That girl who listens to everybody’s problems,

And has the advice that saved a life.

I am not seen as a punching bag,

Or the piece of garbage that gets walked by,

But never thrown away.

Because people in reality think to themselves,

“Somebody else will take care of it…”

Sometimes that trash is left there just because.

Just because one person wants to see how long it will wait.

How long it will be stuck to the gum on the ground,

Or before the breeze takes it away.

Some people just like to watch,

But never help.

And in my fantasy world,

They cannot exist,

Because that is not what makes me happy.

My fantasy world takes me away from here.

From this reality that everybody lives in,

Every day of their short lives.

Fantasies help you escape,

But they can be your worst nightmare.

If you do not leave your fantasy at that “right moment”,

You go out to reality, living in fantasy.

You get hurt when the person in your mind,

Turns out not to be who they really are.

And I do this every day,

I just cannot escape this place I have shaped,

I cannot leave this land of hope and smiles,

I cannot part from the wings of an angel,

I see upon my back,

I cannot barricade myself in here either,

I need out.

Because it is now my worst nightmare,

It has made me somebody that is selfish,

Somebody that is lost,

Just meandering their way through life.

If only they knew,

They would be so disappointed with who I have become.

They would not love me anymore,

They would throw me out the door,

Wish me luck in life,

Tell me they will not miss me,

While I am in my hell,

And that would be it.

Short.

Quick.

Unlovingly.

I would be gone from their reality,

And they then could create a fantasy of life,

As they see it.

Not as I do.

I imagine I do not exist there,

It would make all much easier.

Fantasy land is strange.

Everybody has their own perspective on it.

I view it as a place full of angels in the clouds,

Harmonizing a beautiful tune,

And when the wind whistles,

All the angels fly high.

I imagine a place where there is a throne,

And upon that throne,

There sits a heart,

It has been beaten,

Torn in two,

Punched,

And has bled out.

It no longer beats in reality,

Because that is not where it wants to be.

The heart wants what the heart wants.

And the heart wants to be set free,

In my fantasy land.

I cannot escape this overwhelming thought.

I do not know how,

And I cannot scream it out,

So I wrote it down,

In hopes that somewhere along the way,

It would wiggle its way onto the page,

In black ink,

And make itself known to me,

And vanish from memory.

I leave this moment,

And into a new.

Where a second ago,

The tear that fell held so much pain,

And as it fell from my face,

My watery eyes became less and less,

My heart stopped hurting,

As my eyes closed,

My mind and heart were put to ease,

And they decided,

Fantasy land is where I belong for this weary night.