MusingsPoetry

Illusion

Looking around me, I recognise this plane, this background, this otherworldly backlight glow.
This different coloring.
I’m in… again!
It’s always different though.
The storylines always comes up different, with a different twist.
Today I’m an actress, successful and very beautiful, at the peak of my career… a glorified sex symbol.
Just the perfect representation of the Hollywood star.

In my previous, travels/sojourn/experimental experience/lucid dreams—
Whatever you wanna call it, I have been a model, a musician, a talented painter, a nurse, a neuroscientist.

But today my picture is in a billboard, the one I’m currently staring at— no, gaping at.

My teeth looks perfect, my hair perfect, my makeup exquisite.
I like today’s version.
Maybe I should consider staying more.
But of course I can’t
Because that’ll will upset the balance and get time in a mumbo-jumbo of disarray
No one wants that.
Besides the decision is never mine to make.

Now it’ll go two ways.
I either play out my role and finally land that dream of kissing Dwayne Johnson, AKA the rock, my rock in a romantic comedy drama.

Or I start finding my way out of this reality as soon as I can
But of course, that decision is made for me.

As the woman selling vegetables across the street started melting away. Like a picture made with cheap painting material being drenched, Each layer of her face peeling away, melting and becoming one with the background.
The billboard started diffusing
And the world around me began twisting, coalescing into something… something not existential.
I stayed a bit too late because I was mesmerized by the version of me in the billboard.
She didn’t look like me, physically yes, we are identical.
But the aura is not right,
My smile is not this foxy
My eyebrows are not this perfect.
Her eyes seemed to be telling me a secret, too critical even for a whisper… hence telepathy.
I am entranced on the spot.

Then… I’m back… jolted… albeit rudely.
From another unexplained phenomenon
These journeys are exhausting
They drain me of my resolve
They do something wicked to my conscience
They are vile to my mental health
But I keep finding my way into it… Like a circle.
These occurrences are repeated. Except without the likeness of a circle
They always end the same way
Me with a tear threatening to drop at another “What would have been”

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