𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚 || 𝐉.𝐉𝐊 ✔️

𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚

Jacinth reached the park and witnessed a girl who looked just like Yasmine. He thought it was Yasmine and hugged her.

But it was Y/N.

Or that's what she thought.

That's what Y/N thought.

Jacinth never knew any Yasmine. He had always known Y/N. She was the one he admired, he sketched, he talked to, the one he kissed.

But Y/N, she had an extremely hard time differentiating between fantasy and reality. She couldn't figure out who or what was real and who or what was not.

That led her to believe that Jacinth loved Yasmine and that she was wrong for taking his love, for misleading him.

But he had to tell her, explain to her, gently yet firmly. He had to explain that there was no Yasmine. That Y/N had imagined, she had created a girl called Yasmine by herself. She was the girl.

Or more like Yasmine was a part of Y/N. That's why she looked similar to her. That's why she felt included in those little moments of admiring Jacinth and Yasmine. It was because Yasmine had always been her, it had always been Y/N.

"Y/N, there was no Yasmine, you created her out of your imagination. It's always been you," Jacinth lovingly said to her.

"There was no Yasmine, yes," she affirmed.

And that's how their story progressed.

The girl that was always named in the story was never the protagonist, she was a piece of the protagonist's sanity.

An artist, no matter what art he or she creates, sacrifices a piece of their sanity to produce a masterpiece. And that's why not everyone can appreciate art, because that piece of someone's sanity is hard to accept.

The story was over now. But I didn't know if it really was. I couldn't draw the line between the fictional world I created for myself and the real world I lived in.

It was messy, but I knew that my piece of sanity would be accepted by someone. If nobody else knew how to accept it, I would.

Even though I didn't quite understand if all the events I wrote, were actually written, or real life happenings, I was happy with what I wrote.

Maybe I could understand it in a while, maybe it would take me sometime.

But I couldn't brush off the thoughts that all of this seemed like a Phantasmagoria.

Phantasmagoria:

a sequence of real or imaginary images like that seen in a dream.