Fictionfan: A Fan of Fiction

The question of whether this world exists or not

That question that preludes my dreams

The possibility that reality is naught but illusion

That nothing is as it seems

I wander through life with a feel that’s surreal

Things seem off, like I’m missing something

I find no clear purpose or goal to aim my sights to

From no bell does clarity ring

All I have is my visions of dreams

Magic fuels my energy and thought

The stories told through light and sound

Gives me some taste of what I’ve sought

This stagnant world repeats day by day
A groundhog effect endlessly sustained
Not quite movement or rest in it's shape or form
Just some absurd flux maintained

Perhaps that is why people seek out a purpose
Solace held in cause or deity
Like my dedication to at least be myself
My habits of patience, of spontaneity

If this world refuses to push ahead
It it refuses to keep itself still
Can I be excused from participating?
Live my life as I will?

Ignore the petty squabbles of those who seek gain?
Ignore dynamics of superiority?
Immerse myself in light and sound abound
Read through all but my own story?

But all stories must end after a certain time
Else they'd drag into full stagnation
That limit of a series' appeal
The 12 or 26 episode animation