Life Is Just A Fantasy Novels & Stories

What the hell is wrong with me, having erotic fantasies with that sick fuck. Are you crazy, Lily? Going to the bathroom, washing my flushed face I look in the mirror. The person standing in front of me is different someone I don't know, everything feels meaningless. What do I like to do the most? What do I want in life? It’s like there is only a physical existence of me, there is no real me. I guess, I know why people ignore the red flags. The devil knows how to play, it temps and seduces making us fantasize that this could be different but we never know until we are drowning in this darkness where no one can save us.

He tried to hide his surprise because SB suddenly said something like that to him. "What the hell are you talking about?" "You should hang out more and don't live inside fantasy,like frequent romance novels you read it." "When you live in your fantasy, it will be difficult for you to distinguish between real life and imagination." SB got down from his chair and walked over toward Chansu. "So, you think i'm being delusional right now? Because suddenly I said something that you think is nonsense? Or maybe I spoke right on target, so you want to deny the fact that I said?" SB held Chansu's shoulder and squeezed it hard.

He was frustrated at himself and his ability to cause pain to Liza knowingly and unknowingly. Liza had said that her life was a fairy tale with him but all he had done was to turn this beautiful fairy tale into another nightmare. A nightmare he was stuck in. He really needed some magic in his life right now but he doubted that even fairy godmother could help him now.

Antonio, sounding even more frustrated than ever, stood up and walked around the room while grunting non-stop. “Life? You call this life, Anton? You, of all people I trusted, lied to me for several years. You, of all people I trusted, allowed Jim to slip off your sight. We barely see the light. We breathe smog everyday. Everyday we fear that the person we are talking to now, won’t be there tomorrow. We live like animals. No, actually, animals live comfortably better than us. We are living in a shithole! This is barely life? I thought we had the same ideals but it seemed you have forgotten what we are fighting for.”

A true fantasy is a fixed mistaken notion that gains traction, like a wheel of a wagon on the road, it propels a person in different paths, often unpredictable and toward catastrophe. He has become more like a wonderful wagon wheel, taking him to new extraordinary journeys of life, but unable to alter his path or fundamental beliefs. So what once required medications no longer does. The "fantasies of the great voyage" are no more than fiction with an extra kick. After all, he was stone-cold sane. In truth, he would wager he was safer from demise than anyone else. Beyond that, he was cursed to live a long life. A very long life.

i said "when do you ever use that word 'girlfriend'?"she asked "just now"i said "okay look am tired so tell Adam to drive us to were you want us to go"she said and I sighed "I want it to be only us, girlfriend "I said "okay, stop the girlfriend stuff it's making me feel weird "she said "sorry"i said "ooh, I can't wait to turn 18, I really need a car"she said and I rolled my eyes and hailed a cab

“And she enjoys that?” Her body twitched excitedly, slutty little minx that it was, giving her away. “Um, yeah. I mean…there’s a massive, massive difference between fantasy and reality. She wouldn’t really want to be tortured by the KGB. But being tied up and sexily menaced by someone she liked could be pretty fun, don’t you think?” “I think,” he murmured, “the boundaries of fantasy are less permeable than people realize.” “Um? What?”

I had to push him away without leaving cracks, without giving hope, without creating any chance that he might follow me or get even more tangled in the mess that was my life. He flinched slightly, like he'd been slapped, but he didn't back down. "You know this isn't what you want," he insisted. "After everything we lived, after everything you told me—" "What we lived in the Maldives was a fantasy," I cut in sharply. "And fantasies end when you come back to reality."

"Though as entertaining this is, the affairs of the still living are none of my concern. You'll have to speak to my opposite; Life." "So how do I find Life?" I asked, and Death shrugged, twirling his scythe as if it were a baton. "No clue. I deal with matters of death." "...you're of no help, you know that?" "I've upheld my deal, so I think I've helped way more than necessary. I'm just glad I didn't go fishing for your soul. Otherwise, I would've declined." My jaw drops at his comment, and he shrugs, fading away.

Philip, a long-haul truck driver, was often away from home, leaving me feeling lonely and unfulfilled. It might sound improper, but I couldn't help it. There was a craving inside me that longed to be satisfied, and it had only intensified over time. The way men looked at me when I was out in public made me feel a mix of embarrassment and exhilaration, adding fuel to my restless thoughts. My daily life was simple. After my parents passed away, they left me a three-story house, and I earned enough from renting it out to live comfortably without needing a job. But with so much free time, my thoughts often wandered, and that longing became impossible to ignore.