Dream. Reality. It's hard to differentiate them from each other. Though there is a distinct difference, its point isn't absolute. It can be questioned, and toyed with. What makes a dream, a dream? There is no cause and effect motion about dreams.
She could kill him. She could kill him with her bare hands one minute, and then kiss his warm and living lips the next.
She could destroy the world, and rebuild it exactly as she desired. All in the matter of a blink of the eye.
But was that reality? Or was it a mere fantasy her mind created to appease how she was feeling?
Couldn't she just as easily kill someone in reality, as she could in a dream?
Feelings of remorse and guilt. They are nothing but mere thoughts cooked up by the imagination. If you imagined it never happened, wouldn't those feelings decapitate into thin air, as if they never once existed?
That was the world in which she lived in.
One in which reality and fantasy held no real line. She drifted, danced, teased, with the line of the real world and imagination.
Because simply put, in her fantasy world, she didn't have to put up with people she disliked. She didn't have to deal with idiots who hurt her. She could only feel bliss.
She teetered on the brink of insanity, she knew. Flirted with what people considered mentally stable. But she preferred it that way.
She could be a god in her own world. Why would anyone give that up?
No. She liked it.
She liked her world with no absolute distinction. She liked when there was no relationship of cause and effect.
Most of all, she liked how simple it made life.
Just a quick intro. I have chapter 1 already typed up, I just need to edit it and throw it up. Expect it soon.
Read and review please!