THE LENS

He wondered why he was here and what he would do with this experience once it was over.  It really was dragging him down and despite his trying he found himself barely able to maintain his facade.  People were starting to get a glimpse of the cracks, peeking inside for a closer look.

He always wanted to exist solely within a TV drama series, live a life that wasn’t real.  It helped him to look at his life through this fantasy lens, really had a way of softening the unsettling blow of reality.  It made everything feel a little less heavy and a little more grand. 

For example, this boy situation.  It all started innocently enough but now, now he was starting to feel things.  Things he has not felt for the better part of a decade and it really was uncomfortable, his stomach twisting and his heart beating out of his throat.  He was not a jealous person and yet, here he was filled with the poison up to his nostrils barely able to breath. 

He knew methods, of course, to rid himself of this poison, but the sickness within him wanted to hold onto it for a little longer.   It made him feel vulnerable, angry, and alive.  It was the anger that really fueled him, it pulsed through his bloodstream with such a force if felt like one of his old friends twisting and distorting his sad reality into something more powerful. 

He would hold onto it until near self-destruction, then out of self-preservation only, pull out his fantasy lenses and suddenly, everything was glamourous again.  And he didn’t have to feel.

 

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