My name is Daisy FYI
A girl walks down a thin road in the middle of a blazing desert, her peaches and cream skin sparkling, her hazelnut hair swaying in the imaginary wind and snow around her. She wears a white Oxford shirt, and an ankle length floral skirt, which flatters her every step. The expanse around her consists of soft sand, a bright blue sky with marshmallow white clouds, and a sun so bright that it could be mistaken for a floating egg yolk. A roadrunner scampers after a lizard in front of her, missing her size 8 shoe by scarcely an inch, while the native birds caw their caws and squawk their squawks to try and get each other’s attention. Amidst all of this nature, the girl walks on swiftly, on a mission to get to work on time today, her sunglasses sitting high up on the bridge of her nose. She has not noticed the beauty around her, because quite frankly, she can’t see it. She thinks- dreams- that she is about to be late for a meeting with her staff in a New York building, about next month’s W magazine. She is the head of the advertising department. But then the girl stumbles, spilling her coffee into the sand, watching the rivulets. And she stops. She looks around.. “How on earth did I manage to get myself into such a beautiful place?”
She did not arrive there recently; it is the same place she had, and has, always been in. Something all of a sudden brought her back to a reality she wished hadn’t existed. Her whole life had been a careless fantasy, one which she had never wished to end.
It takes a certain sort of power to be able to bring someone back to reality. In this girl’s case, we do not really know what triggered it. Perhaps it was her coffee, but it could just as easily have been the roadrunner’s sparkle when it ran by, or the magical tune created by the twittering birds. But does the source really matter? Is her prior dream-life better than that of this beautiful world that she never wanted?
These are the things that flourish in my secret little dream world. I wish they really existed. But they don’t. I’ve been told they don’t exist and never will, and that I should come back down to Earth and take a look around the reality of the planet…but why should I? Earth is depressing. It has never stopped me from believing, wishing; I can make all of my little secret wishes and dreams become my reality. I am not blind to my surroundings. I only wish they weren’t so true. I read and get lost in the imaginary stories of Franny and Zooey, Dorian Gray, Harry Potter. I live in these books. I fly, and go on fancy dates and eat crème brûlée. I take walks by ponds and feed ducklings while I wait for a train to come and take me on an adventure. I get lost in libraries and find hidden places. I am an explorer.
So when you ask me, “In what do you believe,” and I respond with, “Shortcakes and lemon drops on a dinghy in the sea,” don’t look so surprised.
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