She craves real stories. Nothing you can give her is close to reality, so she craves real stories.
I know I am two persons, but the mirror shows only one. Am I crazy or am I dreaming?
I live my life with my head in the clouds, my soul enraptured in the dreamlike trance of my extravagant fantasies. The rest of my carcass remains trapped in this deep, dark pit where I wallow in the extravagant let-downs I myself have conceived.
Jimmy Flagrant pulled all the stops and went head first into the spaceTime hewing vortex. He was split into a million million Jimmy Flagrants in a condensation of the soul and trolled the multiverse in a million million stories.
It began to snow, a rainbow peaked through the thick fog, and then a few porpoises splashed and surfaced briefly for air, all while the cruise ship slowly drifted by a huge glacier tucked in between two Chilean peaks. I had never thought a scene like this could exist, but then again, I had never believed in vampires either, and now I was sharing a cabin with one.
We write so much about core values that I think people here actually believe it.
Reality tells the truth though.
The fabric of reality is not fabric.
It is goo.
A lily rose out of the pond, its scent sweet and bitter, its colors yellow and blue, its posture bent and straight at the same time.
I wanted to be like the lily, strong and smooth and sweet, but life weakened, roughed, bittered me without remorse.