What's the point of dreaming, anyway? More than giving hope, it feels like torture.
A dream is nothing more than an idea, the image of something that will never be real, too bizarre to be so; that's why they'll never come true.
No matter how much you dream, no matter how hard you try, how much you think about it, you'll never beat life. Life is the one that determines things, not you.
Any dream fulfilled was nothing more than an idealized reality brought to life. Everything I set as a goal was too easy to even call it a dream.
Life only gives you what isn't absurd to it, and it ignores what really matters to you, what you truly want. Life doesn't care what you want. It doesn't care if you try. It doesn't care if you get frustrated. It doesn't care if you cry.
"Tough it out and get up," it says. "Stop thinking about it," it forces you. "Be realistic once and for all and let go of all those ideas," they said. How can I live in a world so empty of what truly fulfills me? Everything that makes me feel alive is what makes me happy, which is why there is no life without happiness.
Can living wrapped in a dream really be called life? At least, if that dream makes me happy, I can feel alive.
It doesn't matter how false it is; nothing and no one is completely genuine in the real world.
I prefer to feel the pain that comes with knowing the happiness I feel thanks to that world is false, than to endure the pain of a world that will never let me smile.
I can dream whatever I want, I can… I can be happy with whatever I want. I don't need anyone else. I have no reason to distrust anyone, since no one will hide anything from me. They will trust me.
And, like that, she'll trust me too.