August 18, 2008
By starcatcher88 BRONZE, New Hartford, Connecticut
starcatcher88 BRONZE, New Hartford, Connecticut
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Every so often, a word or phrase comes along. A sentence or a laugh. A song or a smell. That reminds me of the place. The place where nothing is old, nothing is young, and the surreal becomes the real. A dream world that seemed to me, more like a nightmare. I was trapped in the same and shifty place between reality and dreams. That small and odd crevice between two worlds. One day, you can wake up and fly. Or swim deeper than the ocean floor. You can sing as beautifully as the angels. You can eat and eat until, like a ball, you roll out the door. But there are other days when you can hardly stand. You cannot move, but you know something is following you. You cannot scream and you cannot breathe. Some day, you can run and dance and sing, but no better than anyone else. You are real. You are free. The days and hours are as tedious as walking on a spider tread. One wrong move and you can fall over the edge and into the other world. You can be flying and fall. Swimming and sink. Sing and gasp for breath. The line is thin, but after years of navigating this horrible place, I have grown accustomed to the suddenness and the planned occurrences. I know what it is like to be like a marionette, forever at the mercy of someone else. Someone who plays you for a simple and stupid pawn. They laugh when you fall off the table, when your place is taken by the other king.

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