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Description
It gets better right?
That's what they tell me.
I believed them, for a time.
Because, well for time, it was.

Then,
They came.
Every night.
Every day.

My fantasies.

Reality is a fragile thing, it always was with me.
Even before I felt the need to rewrite it
Create my own.
Everyday I dive deeper
I set up my hook and rod and go Fishing for Fantasies
Which I then weave delicately into my life tapestry
that tells the story of me.

I've rewritten my own story one too many times now
The pages are starting to tatter
The binding beginning to fray
I've almost forgotten the sweet taste of reality on my tongue.

Sometimes, when reading the lines of my life,
I grow tired of old plotlines
Of worn hackneyed tales.
So I rip out pages

I Burn whole chapters
Pick up my pencil once more
And begin to write.