It's the first time that you've ever seen such a chaotic scene. Roads, worn down by tank tracks. Cars piled up on the side with bullet holes and burn marks obviously used as cover. You hear a single shot fired echoing through the city's grid. Tall towers of smoke came out of the sky scrapers. Office buildings bent over as if they were defeated. A tank round is heard followed by a few screams and shouts.
You begin to explore this place that you've never laid eyes upon. You walk carefully around the dead soldiers. Like a strange film, there were only black and white colours. You look carefully at the mauled soldier. He coughed and a dark red colour is seen. His strength fades away... he is no more.
You start to feel cold, a cold breeze perhaps? Ambiance of the surrounding destruction is drowned out by an frightening high pitched noise. You close your eyes in pain and plug your ear drums in hopes of defending yourself from this unpleasant experience. It works. You open your eyes and see a butterfly, magnificently coloured; orange, black, blue and green. You follow it with your eyes. You turned a full circle and watch it fly up towards the blue sky. You daydream for a while about how great it would be to be so beautiful.
You look down again at the path in front of you, but it is not the same. All the buildings were brimming with colour and fully repaired. The pileup on the side of the road were merely parked cars. You rub your eyes in disbelief. What's going on? you say to yourself. What once was a battlefield was now just a nice beautiful street. You say to yourself, "Everything's going to be alright, yea... It'll be just fine."
Sometimes it's hard to tell the truth from the fiction, this is a mini story about a person's inner self. It's about confusion, choices, and mental health. The street defined here at the beginning is a mess - everyone has their downfalls and bad un-presentable times. And in this case, this person's tricked themselves into pretending that the world around is perfectly fine, instead of this battlefield that it was before.
Moral of the story is, you should sometimes face the truth.
You begin to explore this place that you've never laid eyes upon. You walk carefully around the dead soldiers. Like a strange film, there were only black and white colours. You look carefully at the mauled soldier. He coughed and a dark red colour is seen. His strength fades away... he is no more.
You start to feel cold, a cold breeze perhaps? Ambiance of the surrounding destruction is drowned out by an frightening high pitched noise. You close your eyes in pain and plug your ear drums in hopes of defending yourself from this unpleasant experience. It works. You open your eyes and see a butterfly, magnificently coloured; orange, black, blue and green. You follow it with your eyes. You turned a full circle and watch it fly up towards the blue sky. You daydream for a while about how great it would be to be so beautiful.
You look down again at the path in front of you, but it is not the same. All the buildings were brimming with colour and fully repaired. The pileup on the side of the road were merely parked cars. You rub your eyes in disbelief. What's going on? you say to yourself. What once was a battlefield was now just a nice beautiful street. You say to yourself, "Everything's going to be alright, yea... It'll be just fine."
Sometimes it's hard to tell the truth from the fiction, this is a mini story about a person's inner self. It's about confusion, choices, and mental health. The street defined here at the beginning is a mess - everyone has their downfalls and bad un-presentable times. And in this case, this person's tricked themselves into pretending that the world around is perfectly fine, instead of this battlefield that it was before.
Moral of the story is, you should sometimes face the truth.
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