Fairies are real

The girls are chanting, “Fairies are real.” And why not? Why would they be any more or less real than the notepad in front of me, than the words forming on the page? “I do believe in fairies, I do, I do,” they now chant. They have the method for making them real, just as Peter Pan did: believe. Everything that appears real is no more than a belief. Don’t believe your eyes and see where that takes you. Please let me know, for I still tend to believe mine.

I fill my mind with facts, when the simple truth is all. Bereft of all else, that is all that’s left. What can change cannot be true, for the truth remains constant, so what I see is a lie, believe it or not. Why would I tell myself such things? Why would I do this to me? Because if I didn’t, there would be no me. My reality makes me real.