I live in an imaginary world. Secluded in a small, inescapable box. Always alonein a box. I can see a vision of a small girl sitting in the darkness with only a tiny stream of light as company. I need not food nor drink nor sleep. But I conjure up things from my own fantasies. Creatures of myths, beings that exist only in my mind. I hold out a hand and feel a fairy land on my fingertips.
Why can't my dream world become real?
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