Somewhere across the field, there were worlds unexplored, lives never lived. Somewhere over that field there was a dream, there was a magical land in which -

She knew she romanticising it. She knew that fairy tales were just that, she knew that living happily ever after was not a reality. She knew that across the field there was little more than...more fields.

But they were unexplored fields, they were new fields, and the unknown was better than this. This sepia-toned world, this dull, boring land that held no adventure, no prospects, no hope.

Across the field there was another world. Across the field -

There was probably another girl, looking across, desperately hoping for a passage to somewhere different.

Different didn't mean better, but that didn't matter anymore.

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Pustevis over 11 years ago

This reminds me of myself: always complaining that nothing happens all the time while frequently finding myself doing nothing but dream...

bespectakate (joined about 12 years ago)
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Ladygirl of a British persuasion; sometimes I actually write stories that aren't depressing (but not very often)

I write for the http://jupiter-palladium.com, which is a webcomic about superheroes. Interesting ones. Cute ones, too. Which is nice. (It's cheerier than most things I write. That's where the happy goes, guys.)

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dream escapism

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