Published by: Patrick Lance Guerra
Date Published: July 22, 2025
Time Published: 10:45 AM
Category: Prose
Theme: Pretending everything is fine in an attempt to ignore the reality, only to realize that we can't escape the truth but can make it better instead.
In a quiet little forest, there she sat—still as the breeze that brushed against her skin. Red roses and pink peonies surround her, a sea of colors that whispers the beauty of nature.
As she looked up, her eyes sparkled—the sky was shining a soft, gentle hue of blue, a vibrant color that filled the small girl' world with promises.
She had everything in her favor.
She was happy.
She was content.
Everything was how she wanted it to be—not a single flower without color, no fallen petals on the ground, and no gray storms in sight.
Everything was perfect—too perfect, perhaps.
Then, without a whisper of warning, lighting struck her little world, disrupting the peace and calm that she had grown used to.
Everything suddenly fell apart.
She sat there, frozen, helpless, as everything she wanted to believe slowly withered away. The once vibrant blue sky lost its colors, and the once beautiful flowers shed their petals one by one.
Tears welled up in her eyes—not from fear, but from knowing. This world she had made was only ever an illusion, a figment of her imagination.
It always has been.
Everything—from the sky to the flowers and even the peace—was just a perfectly crafted world made to shield her from the tragic truth that is the reality.
She tried her best to just sleep everything off, desperate to make herself believe that everything is just a nightmare that would go away once she wakes up. But alas, the outside world always finds a way in.
Despite all her efforts, the world that she had built to perfection all faded into memory, like a dream that you forget, little by little as time passes.
It had been a place of comfort. A beautifully crafted lie made to shield her from all the worries, the stress, and the world that always seemed to turn its back on her.
But reality—like the sun when it's nighttime—had never truly vanished. It had simply been waiting, unmoving, until she was finally ready to face it.
She had feared that reality would break her, that she would never ever cross the bridge full of rocks, of worries and disappointments.
But now, with the illusion gone and reality standing in front of her, she finally understood.
Life doesn't have to be perfect for it to be meaningful.
She didn’t have to keep living in a fake reality, pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t, that no amount of pretending would change what was real.
And though she couldn't escape reality, she could still make it better by creating something real instead, something she could live in.
A reality that she has built herself.
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