I am troubled by a dream. A dream that I knew would even haunt me in my waking hours if I let it. It was sweet, but not without the uncompromising burden of guilt and expectation. Though I wish that it would not end, I’ve always known that dreams have no place in reality. The same goes for the feelings that inspire the dream and those inspired by it.

For what is real is hard and harsh, limited and restrictive. Reality is where dreams go to perish. There is nothing more to do at this moment but to enjoy the dream while it lasts, because it may not last for very long. One day it will become nothing but a mere figment of the imagination. Then we are left only with a fleeting memory of what was once simultaneously romantic and tragic.


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