How odd, that in the end, the euphoric reveries that continued to ripple throughout my distorted psyche caused more agony than joy. The pleasant daydreams that i was so contently enthused over before, now only left me with the desolate, battered remains that is my soul. Indeed, my lucid dreams of mere happiness and love had an honest and chivalrous motive; to give me the utmost pleasure and hope by being an inner apparatus that allows me to envision my breathtaking fantasies before my eyes. My goals, my challenging aspirations that dwells within my secluded mind were played out in my omnipotent imagination, creating a boundless realm unlike any other. And yet, this was the most significant element that produced such distress for my barren spirit. At the end of my pleasant phantasm, i finally find myself in reality, with nothing altered whatsoever. Have i realized that my daydreams are veritably cruel creatures that gave me vivid illusions, dragging me out of reality’s firm grasp, only to drop me back in the exact same spot I was before, never to see my wildest wishes in real life. Why was my mind taunting me so? What was their purpose?