They drew a line. Told me not to cross. This is how things are on this side.
You stay here. Don’t go to the other side.
This is reality. This is my mother’s kiss. This is my brother’s laugh.
It’s not bad.
It’s real.
But what else?
There’s more.
The inside of my eyelids lead me in directions I’ve never been.
My eyes glaze over as my head takes me away.
Carried by a balloon. Embraced by the wind. Held by the sky.
I’m a giant.
I’m not sick.
My grandmother is at home and my best friend holds my hand.
This is my fantasy.
This is my Camelot.
This isn’t real.
Claire McArthur 