Delusion has taken me away from my destiny. Living in a bubble is great, until it pops. And then I am forced to face the cold, grim reality. Of everything. But seeing things for what they really are. Instead of imagining things through a colored filter. Cellophane lies.
He had told me nice, sweet things as I suffered. Gave me false hope, breathing life into me. For months, I clung on to that memory. That hollow memory, nothing more than a shell, to house all that emptiness. Eventually, I had to remove the filter, and saw nothing.