Wonderland

by fuXion

Dedicated to arna (thanks for helping me out with this fic with your poetic touch), Miss J, Vanilla Mint…

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Does wonderland exists? Trust me, it does. I always had fantasies, always day dreaming. It might be childish but it is not wrong. If they can make you happy, why throw them aside?

It’s raining in this big city. Gloomy, it might be seen as but not totally. The little raindrops form polka dots in the area. A little city is caught inside every single polka dot. In the heart of the city, there will always be fun.

Dusty streets with trash on them aren’t unsightly. Why can’t people just take with another view? Dusty streets can be paths littered with trash like autumn leaves. What do you call this? Optimism or fantasies?

Maybe there isn’t supposed to be an answer. Cinderella was optimistic about her freedom, just as surely she must have fantasized about it. But this isn’t a fairytale, and I am not Cinderella. If this isn’t a fairytale, then there is such a thing called the reality, and such a thing called a dream.

But what if I was to dream forever? What would be real then?

Let the surroundings acknowledge for you.

On the streets, I can’t tell the difference between reality and dream. I am so confused. All I caught in my brain was the sound from the vehicles that I would believe is real. I turned to face the road. Honks everywhere and the sight of fast-moving automobiles. Crash. Two of such invention crashed into each other. The windows shattered, the metals went really out of shape. There was even a trail of the vehicles’ trace of sudden braking. I stared into that moment. Water droplets started to descend on me. Then I realized, it was yet another of my daydreaming. I’m getting sick of these things.

Have you ever looked across a plane of cement on a perfect rainy afternoon? The puddles deep like oceans spattered across; icy in their sting, hindering your movements. It’s unpleasant, isn’t it? The cold water soaking into your socks and destroying your shoes; but it’s beautiful too, don’t you think?

The puddles of water. Dark reflections of myself, the world, and the sky. The raindrops pattering onto the puddles. Slowly, the black and white world got painted.

If it’s the evening, the deepening dusk makes the lights of the city even more defined. The roads become rivers of colorful ink. Urbanization, did it really take over nature? Or did I get lost again? A mirror of reality, warped with a touch of the surreal; luminous jeweled tones.

It’s surrealism that touches my fantasies; the fluidity, the shifting images, the ripples in space and time, blueberry swirls.

I can see everything with such clarity, but everything is a shade darker and a touch colder. The water, to something else transforms me. My dark mirror; mirror of reality, mirror of madness, mirror of darkness. The mirror of whom I first glanced at through the translucent film.

I continued walking, aimlessly. This really got to get out of my mind. I need to differentiate. Reality? Dream? I boarded the bus. Crowded with people. I can’t think straight. Walking with daze, I managed to get a seat after a few stops. Confusion taking over me. I felt the urge to voice out. "Reality or dream?" I startled the person beside me. "I am practical," he replied calmly and alighted the bus.

I wanted to feel this sense of reality forever. Looking for this lost sense, I spotted him. What do you call this then? Child-like I might be but it always made him smile. Sacarstic, serious, calm, these made his surface up. This is what I always received from him but I kind of accept them all. A statement made, I’m stuck at this moment.

An outdoor juice bar, everything so calm and quiet, I felt so relaxed. The sun was especially cheerful and the clouds seemed just right. Might not be natural to have plants planted on pots and having everything so neat. But they did slow everything down just like what nature does. Consoling and soothing. Everything was going the usual way; maybe I just never realized that the real world was so calm. No tension.

A stalk of crimson red rose, deep with emotions. He gave me that. The way he felt my hair and face, the caressing, the kisses. He was more than a sense of reality. It might be the wrong word to be used on him. But he is, to me, sweet. A simple word conveying the gist of it. He is made up more than that, he is beyond words can describe. Licking up the taste on the lips after you have eaten berries is just like having him around. Every movement of his is wonderful and perfect, even the aftermath has tinge of that. My perfect wonderland.

Both were standing on each side of the urbanized path. The longing was there to be with each other once separated. I merely took a step towards him while he was coolly yet swiftly coming my way. The usual honks were heard again but I realized it was actually short and quick. He collapsed in front of me. So near yet so far. The world swirl in front of me. The images recollected. Was it really him that was lying in front of me?

Senses flew back to me, grabbing my body towards the whole world. I was in the middle of no where I want to know. Was that a dream or was that reality? I held no responsible for that. But I did felt a sense of pity when that rose of mine withered. A teardrop.

 ~~~

Can’t help it, happy endings aren’t the sort for me.

Heard that Miss J?