Showing posts with label Illusion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Illusion. Show all posts

Fantasy For Friday


 

Fantasy.

You know, I personally hate it when people criticize fantasy. I am often told to read and write about the real world, the social life. They say I am just too lost in my “inexistent, imaginary, unreal” world. They say that people like to read about what’s real, about society. And that fantasy doesn’t exist, you have to be real.
It makes me wonder, that a thousand years ago, this world would’ve felt like a fantasy, does that make this world unreal? Philosophy, something, which is just as real as it gets, even it says that fantasy can be real. Under metaphysics, subjective possibilities, branch epistemic possibility, it is clearly stated we do not know whether something is true or not (no one has come up with proof yet); so it is (epistemically) possible that it is true and it is (epistemically) possible that it is false. But if it is, in fact, probably true (as it may be, for all we know), then it would have to be (subjunctively) necessarily true; what being provable means is that it would not be (logically) possible for it to be false.

It means that we might know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it is not raining outside—but that would hardly mean that it is (subjunctively) impossible for it to rain. 
So fantasy can be real for all we know. And why do we read social articles? Aren’t we having enough social problems in our life, that we should go read someone else’s (likely an “unreal” character’s) problems? Or so we seek solutions to our problems? Well, guess what, it’s a fiction world. The only one with the solution to your problems is you. Social articles ain’t getting you anywhere. They are, in fact, “fiction” too. Fantasy. You see, most writers hate giving sad endings. They just “imagine” a good ending and put it in a book, and everyone just loves it.

At least when we write about fantasy and unreal stuff, we kind of admit we are writing about it. We don’t put it under the name “social” to increase our readership. You see, fantasy is imagination, and so, every fiction book, is, as a matter of fact, fantasy. It is imagination. Non-fiction, I got nothing against it. But fantasy broadens the mind, perspective. If humans didn’t imagine that we could go to space, we could not have gone to space. If everyone just turns their back to fantasy and becomes close-minded, narrow-minded, we humans are getting nowhere.

So, we can just spend our time worrying about tomorrow, or we can literally create our tomorrow. A fantastic tomorrow. Fantasy starts where reality ends, but is itself endless. Nothing beyond fantasy exists, it is infinite. But I can assure you, that even, by any chance, the fantasy ends, humans will cease to exist.

Divulging Facade

 


As I laid with my head on the pillow,

Staring at the fiery sun, and the beautiful willow,

With mugged up thoughts crammed inside my mind,

And Lucifer whispering at my side,

One after the other, fell my dreams like petals from a flower,

And the tears escaped the cage of my lashes, making my sweet mouth sour.

Self-told words had now proven to be lies,

And the fake façade had come with a price.

No longer could I make believe,

No longer could I just live.

Bounds were unbreakable,

But my imagination had turned out to be killable.

And as it took its dying breath,

It planted one last seed in my head,

Told me it wasn’t the boundaries,

The true Devil was the lies.

It wasn’t bound by any line,

Imagination wasn’t made to falsify.

I rose and fell,

Over the chime of bell.

I had trouble standing,

But was it the costume I wore that led to my crash-landing?

Soon, the Angel reappeared at my shoulder,

And I felt a little less colder.

The realization hit, the illusion divulged,

The mask dropped,

And I saw my face,

Just as pretty, but no longer hidden behind a veil.

Tangent

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