Delusional

I believe love is a delusion, as much as is religion. They are fantasies and fallacies we make up in out heads because we need something to believe in. It is that strange human tendency to attach meaning to things and as fickle as it sounds, I find it silly for the most part. I am a hypocrite. Because as much as I think it stupid, I am all for creating delusions to make yourself happy. If love is a delusion, if it is painful and unrequited or sacrificial, unreal, temporary, inconstant, impractical, if it be a delusion, believe and live and revel in it so long as it makes you happy. Fight the world if you will, and make it worth it while it lasts. I am much against impracticality but I suppose there are some things even my detached self needs to hold on to. Being detached is an illusion, as is being attached. Being in control is an infantile belief. There is no control in the universe, at least not in human hands. The mind makes up things and explanations, and if it makes you happy, believe. Stay in that cave of innocence and don't come out because outside is chaos. Outside is confusing. It is questioning everything you know, mistrust and disbelief in whatever you hear. Live you delusions for as long as you wish. Dreams and fiction. Thats what I always say. Thats what I believe. That is my escape. Dreams and fiction. It is all I wish to live in, is dreams and fiction. The melody for my soul and solace for my mind is dreams and fiction. Where I believe as I please in goodness and happy endings, and murders and witchcraft, and blood and flying carpets. I believe existence is strange, the reason questionable but I need an escape from this empty, material, doubtable, unbelievable reality. Escape into dreams and fiction. Clouds and words. Skies and pages. Dreams and fiction. All I need to do s return to my mind, where everything is real and nothing must be. Where I sometimes believe in silly, fickle, impractical love, and always, in magic.