They live in different worlds. Yet, their worlds seamlessly blend to actualize their dreams, to transition into another world, away from drab and rot, as they confess they see their old worlds. He tells her what she wants to hear, what makes her life, she says, worth one again. He tells her she does the same to him. It appears they both can smile again, something they admit eludes them even now, sometimes, pondering the game.
They do not tell each other why. They say they rather would not throw the life away. They decide to explore it even further in a milieu they say so doing would be in style. The preparations start, both pledging eternal devotion to a world that they admit enables what they sorely lack even as they also do that its promise remains embedded in this world they long so much to give a life they choose.
Now they have a home, far removed from that in which they. Even if within one romance oozes the aroma of love inside an even more important home, they agree, it is one in which resides the reasons they both insist their new world must blossom. Everyone else seems to watch with curiosity, then concern, and even defiance, in what appears to be saccadic emotional transitions multiple times in an immeasurable timeline that belie she tells him, as he also does, an outer peace that in turn speaks little of an inner turmoil for which their new world provides sublime solace.
They do not cloak the world in mystery. They tell all else even all about the romance, the escapades, the flight into the abyss of a dream manifest, even if as another. They seek patience and consideration, and plead innocence, one locked up for as much as a third of the day, which they say tells how much they long for the game. They explain the intricacies of its romance, and the caressing of their sensibilities its mystique tenderness plays on their minds, and on their wellbeing.
They say at last they have a chance to be who they really are, or want to be, and wish they were, desperate for all to see to be sure none takes the world away from them, not even those they admit bringing here, to the world that they want so much to leave behind, they owe much to ensure live in one culture dictates they provide the sired. They seem to leave someone else to do that though, who openly wonders how much more for convention to bear.
They only seem keen to answer questions exigent to their new world flourishing, to the cognitive dissonance they say so torment, which they crave is its exact opposite, bliss in a poolside love élan as the dim sunset luminosity soon frolics with the easy swirls of candlelight whose gentle rays cuddle the polished plates of the silverware on which they perch. Not even the alarms carved on the faces that peek over their shoulders as they patently immerse in endless fancy seem able to elicit the responses they demonise that they claim others seek, but which are to questions that they say drive the quest to escape to another world, and be free again.
Indeed, they say others soon realize the effortlessness with which the new world snatches people from the old, and how hard the lure of living inner desires in rapture is to ignore, which they say should ensure that others leave them alone so as not to lose all to, perhaps even reverse the pull of a world constrained by another from which they say it helps to flee to be happy and free.
They deny they want to be mean, as others often say they are. They also deny being renegades oblivious to the realities of the tasks that lurk beneath the veneer of the freedom that they seek. They plead for empathy, indeed for help. Others tell them they should come back to help, to do the things they need to do for those they sired with the love they leave behind. They say they care about them and only want to be happy again. Others say that is a façade, a design ruse to relive a life enough of which they profess to already have.
They insist they have and that they just want to play a game. Yet, things seem about to change with the two worlds they each have set on a collision course. Others now demand the answers that appear to be to questions buried in empathy all along. It does not seem to the old world conscionable anymore to watch explicit romance live in another world to which they do not belong to understand the need to be happy and free again.
Now they must explain, it seems why they should be locked in electronics, and not care who does what, or nothing, including those that custom prescribes depend on them. They try to explain as usual, but apparently to deaf ears. Then they say this is making matters worse in the new world where nothing seems off-limit to discuss, the chaos brewing in the old world in fact venerable cannon fodder, but which they both say sours the cognitive bliss of their other world.
They want their new world to manifest in the old, not in space. They want to meet, to see what it is like merge and revel in both worlds. Their plan progresses apace. Everyone else says that would be transgression. They know it would be harder to explain than that they extricate emotionally from immersion in moonlight love serenade rocking subliminal cognitions into cacophonous corporeal reverie, that reality is not transcendence.
But they say they have nothing more to explain, that they are where they want to be, and expect to be where they are in a second life, to get to where they head. They admit though that it is no longer a game to venture across space to actuality find one, already in play in a world so far away. Yet, they say they want it, even need it. They prepare to leave all they have behind in their old worlds, to seek the peace and love they evidently so much desire, even as they admit that they hardly know that they are not just about to throw both worlds away.
