The Fantasy of Love

This is not a fantasy with magic--not one with dragons soaring through the sky. There are no happy endings, and there is no good or bad. No, I can only wish to learn magic or cause seasons to change.

Ever since I was young, I used to dream of those fantasies. Wondering aimlessly, I would get lost in my own head-- escapism from a dull life would be what some may call it. Even as I try to better myself, remove myself from those fantasies, I find myself falling into the escapism again. Novel after novel devours me, making me feel like I have escaped the escape that was trying to conquer my life, but it was a disguise of the monster, lurking in the corner in a cute, welcoming, deceiving form. The temptation to run away into my head can't be all bad. It feels so innocent, so natural. Yet, I have to ask myself; is this really what I want? Do I wish to live my life or simply imagine it? I think not. The truth is I am using these fake fantasies to cover up my real dream-- my real fantasy: to be loved.