Sometimes illusions can be fun. Ever been to Las Vegas to see any of the great illusionists? They appear to float up into the sky, like heavenly assisted angels. I am always amazed at the way they can trick the mind, the brain. It is only an illusion.
Time is an illusion. It tick tick ticks away and drains us of our youth. We use our watches and our clocks to measure it — to see how long we have until it has taken everything from us and left us old and grey. Yes, it’s just an illusion, but it’s a very powerful one.
Makeup gave her an illusion that she can be whoever she wanted. As long as she painted her face with certain strokes and strength, she can play pretend. This went on for a long time until one day, she realized that these were all just false representations of herself. She put down her brushes and closed the drawers of little pots and tubes. After wiping her face, she finally saw her real self. “This is me,” she said to herself.
Am I disillusioned to believe that I have a chance at making it in this career? Well, the thing is, I have what it takes. I have the talent, the looks, the intelligence: I can feel it. I know it when I do it. It’s the thing. But, I don’t believe in myself at all. I can’t help but compare myself to others who do my thing, even though I know that’s not helpful at all.
He’d been colorblind his entire life, but she was clearly dressed in red. He didn’t need to have perfect vision to see that her dress matched the blush of her cheeks, or that the room was much warmer. Sweat beaded on his neck and he had to swallow. For a second, he thought she was the devil himself, wearing a gown of fire with tendrils of flames reaching out to lick him.
So many times he only took in the bust of a woman. Not the bosom – the top half. He’d ignore the legs, the pants, the dress, the skirt, and keep his eyes and thoughts from the waist up, but not in a clean way. She wasn’t a half-woman, though, and he was in for a long day if he didn’t consider all of her.
It’s an illusion to think that things will stays this way for the rest of my life. I could be in Canada next year, teaching skiing. Or in Iceland, working on a pony farm. I could still be on my own or I could be with you, but it’s an illusion to think it will stay that way.
i know the way you looked at me, the way you’re eyes dilated and your heart beat faster whenever i touched you wasn’t an illusion, but i was afraid and hated all the softer parts of you. my hate was an illusion. the worst illusion i ever made for myself and i wish, i wish , i wish i had loved you softly. i wish.
I have the illusion i am still in my bed even though i am sitting in the office. It is Wednesday and the weekend seems like a mirage, an illusion that cannot come soon enough. i need to sleep.
There I saw him. The Majestic Stallion. There he was, proudly craning his neck in the warmth of the sun’s rays on the hill. I clicked Faith into a gallop all the way up the hill . But when I got there he was gone. The realization that he wasn’t there, and wasn’t mine and never would be mine nor there, struck me like a lightning bolt. It was just an illusion.
What do you think about the word illusion? What does it make you think of? Fear of the unknown? Magical mishaps? Either way, you must remember one thing: it’s all in your head. The word illusion is an illusion in itself. We believe that it’s there, but are any words REALLY there? Think about it. I mean, what is life?
we were splayed on the sand and i thought we were falling in love
that magic eight balls were honest and we could tell each other little nothings
and maybe one day they’d mean something
more than nothing
i should have kissed you that day by the ocean shore
and we should have kissed goodbye
the waves reflected neither of us and i should have looked
but it was so much more lovely to look into your eyes and all those illusions
The inexplicable pull towards something good and new is inherent in my behavior. Whether or not this illusion can be transformed into reality is the mystery that worries me. Worrisome in my indecision, my lack of control, my reticence.
magic mistakes people count on you
the life is loved and lost before you count to two
too much to wit to why to not
this love was an illusion
alluding to a perfection
which was imperfect, too along rejects
happy smiles forget
to love to laugh to what more could you want
a love that’s true.
I see her after all these years. The pouring rain drenching our clothes, soaking us to the bone. Her hair is sticking to her neck, the usually soft hair which I ran my fingers through so many times.
She smiles at me and spread her arms, looking so warm and inviting, supporting my weight as I collaspe into her arms, exhausted from the time away.
But I don’t.
I fall face first into the mud with a disgusting plop as the dirt fills my mouth.
I look up, and she’s gone.
The warm smile of my dying wife that I’ll never see again.
To cry or not cry when your world meets your grave is the questions she asks. He is there on the periphery, a shadow, a light, a groom with a scythe in his hand. He is real, because she can feel his breath on her neck and see his face every time she looks at her scars in the mirror. But maybe his breath is just wind, and her scars aren’t really there at all.
an illusion
that’s what he was.
he was mess of broken pieces taken from others and put inside of him
every flirty smirk, ever step he took was carefully crafted, placing smoke and mirrors so that they could not see the obvious in front of them
She wandered through the illusion of her reality thinking it was all just a dream. Maybe it was but it felt like something I’m so stuck on this word this is very hard!
They’re not tricks. They’re illusions. Tricks are something a whore does for more or for candy.
Arrested development was my favorite show. He hated it.
The night he slept with her I wasn’t mad that he was with someone else. It was that he watched it with her.
He took something that was mine and shared it with someone else.
Baby.Darling.
I interlock our fingers.
I’m here. I wipe away your tears.
I’m real.We are real.
I won’t leave.
I know you’ve been hurting.
I’ve been hurting too,
But,this
Isn’t an illusion.
the illusion of happiness lept into my arms as i stabbed my uncle in the chest. no longer would i fall victim to his anger. no longer would i be a helpless child. i am noones prey. I am a predator. He is not my destroyer.
I loved this activity. My thoughts were all over the place with this word from good/happy meanings to ones that were a bit darker. I loved how this made me think and still thinking! Makes me wonder what my one word for this school year should be
an ilusion is something that might seem real but it actuallly is not. we can t be sure cause we don t know what is this reality. we are weak, in our holographic world but still we want to try to get an ilusion of essence of life
I walked through the city of Bangkok on one of there best festivals they ever had. I stoped at a weird looking tent and it had the word illusion master written on it of corse I went inside and there was a weird looking man standing there and he put a loop inside his brain I was amazed but it was just an illusion.
It was all an illusion. His life, the boring, routinely life he was living; it was all an illusion. Now he was living in a place that could be barely considered as society, let alone a home. Everything was so… desolate. Even in the illusion that his former world was, at least there was color and vibrance.
her eyes sparkled and he didnt know what was happening. she slowly transformed into something he had never even thought could exist. all of her hair grew longer and longer and he couldnt even recognize her anymore. he shook is head in disbelief and fear, about to run but then suddenly she was her again, looking as she always did
“Don’t!” Arvey screamed, grabbing Quinoni’s arm. “It’s just an illusion! It’s not there!”
Quinoni did not seem to hear her, or see her. She continued to walk toward the ever distorting, ever frightening mirage. Arvey could see it, too, all too vividly. Whatever had been slipped into their goblets was potent. All around them, people were laughing.
the thought of being a illusion is that the world around is isnt what everyone thought it was, its a dream that cant escape.. a heart that thinks its in love but is sadly mistaken. we live in a illusion that the world around us is real.. is the easter bunny real.. if you can answer that one deeming question then you have it all figured out dont you.. we are the illusion of a real world. we just have to figure out how to make it real.
we can defy the realness of it all or we can blend it with the illusion we believe to be reality.
I for one want the choice to live in the real or in the illusion.
the thought of being a illusion is that the world around is isnt what everyone thought it was, its a dream that cant escape.. a heart that thinks its in love but is sadly mistaken. we live in a illusion that the world around us is real.. is the easter bunny real.. if you can answer that one deeming question then you have it all figured out dont you.. we are the illusion of a real world. we just have to figure out how to make it real.
“In the event that you realize you’re speaking to an illusion, my dear,” She smiles archly, “redirect your words inwards. Silly thing, you should know when you’re talking to a mirror.”
Today is too joyous a day to reminisce about you darling.
But both of us know I can’t help but think of you so instead I’ll remember the time I sat next to you, head on your shoulder, fingers tangled together, listening to your pulse as it beat in your throat.
The illusion is that time doesn’t exist,clocks do. The world could not be what we see it if we add illusions and imagination.
Sometimes illusions can be fun. Ever been to Las Vegas to see any of the great illusionists? They appear to float up into the sky, like heavenly assisted angels. I am always amazed at the way they can trick the mind, the brain. It is only an illusion.
Time is an illusion. It tick tick ticks away and drains us of our youth. We use our watches and our clocks to measure it — to see how long we have until it has taken everything from us and left us old and grey. Yes, it’s just an illusion, but it’s a very powerful one.
Makeup gave her an illusion that she can be whoever she wanted. As long as she painted her face with certain strokes and strength, she can play pretend. This went on for a long time until one day, she realized that these were all just false representations of herself. She put down her brushes and closed the drawers of little pots and tubes. After wiping her face, she finally saw her real self. “This is me,” she said to herself.
Am I disillusioned to believe that I have a chance at making it in this career? Well, the thing is, I have what it takes. I have the talent, the looks, the intelligence: I can feel it. I know it when I do it. It’s the thing. But, I don’t believe in myself at all. I can’t help but compare myself to others who do my thing, even though I know that’s not helpful at all.
He’d been colorblind his entire life, but she was clearly dressed in red. He didn’t need to have perfect vision to see that her dress matched the blush of her cheeks, or that the room was much warmer. Sweat beaded on his neck and he had to swallow. For a second, he thought she was the devil himself, wearing a gown of fire with tendrils of flames reaching out to lick him.
So many times he only took in the bust of a woman. Not the bosom – the top half. He’d ignore the legs, the pants, the dress, the skirt, and keep his eyes and thoughts from the waist up, but not in a clean way. She wasn’t a half-woman, though, and he was in for a long day if he didn’t consider all of her.
It’s an illusion to think that things will stays this way for the rest of my life. I could be in Canada next year, teaching skiing. Or in Iceland, working on a pony farm. I could still be on my own or I could be with you, but it’s an illusion to think it will stay that way.
i know the way you looked at me, the way you’re eyes dilated and your heart beat faster whenever i touched you wasn’t an illusion, but i was afraid and hated all the softer parts of you. my hate was an illusion. the worst illusion i ever made for myself and i wish, i wish , i wish i had loved you softly. i wish.
I have the illusion i am still in my bed even though i am sitting in the office. It is Wednesday and the weekend seems like a mirage, an illusion that cannot come soon enough. i need to sleep.
There I saw him. The Majestic Stallion. There he was, proudly craning his neck in the warmth of the sun’s rays on the hill. I clicked Faith into a gallop all the way up the hill . But when I got there he was gone. The realization that he wasn’t there, and wasn’t mine and never would be mine nor there, struck me like a lightning bolt. It was just an illusion.
illusion are everywhere from bending light to bending objects there are tons of different illusions some for minds and some for body.
What do you think about the word illusion? What does it make you think of? Fear of the unknown? Magical mishaps? Either way, you must remember one thing: it’s all in your head. The word illusion is an illusion in itself. We believe that it’s there, but are any words REALLY there? Think about it. I mean, what is life?
we were splayed on the sand and i thought we were falling in love
that magic eight balls were honest and we could tell each other little nothings
and maybe one day they’d mean something
more than nothing
i should have kissed you that day by the ocean shore
and we should have kissed goodbye
the waves reflected neither of us and i should have looked
but it was so much more lovely to look into your eyes and all those illusions
The inexplicable pull towards something good and new is inherent in my behavior. Whether or not this illusion can be transformed into reality is the mystery that worries me. Worrisome in my indecision, my lack of control, my reticence.
magic mistakes people count on you
the life is loved and lost before you count to two
too much to wit to why to not
this love was an illusion
alluding to a perfection
which was imperfect, too along rejects
happy smiles forget
to love to laugh to what more could you want
a love that’s true.
that lack of light
that it was too dark to remember the rhythm of your face,
that for a whole month i pretended i knew it like it was code,
that it was whole
that it was solid
and buried,
in fact,
so deeply that only approaching time could deem it false.
so it is obvious that what i saw
what i felt
was an illusion.
Everybody knows that time never ceases to approach.
I see her after all these years. The pouring rain drenching our clothes, soaking us to the bone. Her hair is sticking to her neck, the usually soft hair which I ran my fingers through so many times.
She smiles at me and spread her arms, looking so warm and inviting, supporting my weight as I collaspe into her arms, exhausted from the time away.
But I don’t.
I fall face first into the mud with a disgusting plop as the dirt fills my mouth.
I look up, and she’s gone.
The warm smile of my dying wife that I’ll never see again.
To cry or not cry when your world meets your grave is the questions she asks. He is there on the periphery, a shadow, a light, a groom with a scythe in his hand. He is real, because she can feel his breath on her neck and see his face every time she looks at her scars in the mirror. But maybe his breath is just wind, and her scars aren’t really there at all.
an illusion
that’s what he was.
he was mess of broken pieces taken from others and put inside of him
every flirty smirk, ever step he took was carefully crafted, placing smoke and mirrors so that they could not see the obvious in front of them
Your life is just an illusion of what you imagine. What you dream about is what you hope for, even the morbid things. Everyone looks for sell pity
She wandered through the illusion of her reality thinking it was all just a dream. Maybe it was but it felt like something I’m so stuck on this word this is very hard!
They’re not tricks. They’re illusions. Tricks are something a whore does for more or for candy.
Arrested development was my favorite show. He hated it.
The night he slept with her I wasn’t mad that he was with someone else. It was that he watched it with her.
He took something that was mine and shared it with someone else.
Baby.Darling.
I interlock our fingers.
I’m here. I wipe away your tears.
I’m real.We are real.
I won’t leave.
I know you’ve been hurting.
I’ve been hurting too,
But,this
Isn’t an illusion.
the illusion of happiness lept into my arms as i stabbed my uncle in the chest. no longer would i fall victim to his anger. no longer would i be a helpless child. i am noones prey. I am a predator. He is not my destroyer.
I loved this activity. My thoughts were all over the place with this word from good/happy meanings to ones that were a bit darker. I loved how this made me think and still thinking! Makes me wonder what my one word for this school year should be
not real what I want someone to see about me. what others see as my public face fun and magical magians circu de sole simmering fantasies daydreaming
an ilusion is something that might seem real but it actuallly is not. we can t be sure cause we don t know what is this reality. we are weak, in our holographic world but still we want to try to get an ilusion of essence of life
I like story’s
I walked through the city of Bangkok on one of there best festivals they ever had. I stoped at a weird looking tent and it had the word illusion master written on it of corse I went inside and there was a weird looking man standing there and he put a loop inside his brain I was amazed but it was just an illusion.
Illusions are not there.
magic
It was all an illusion. His life, the boring, routinely life he was living; it was all an illusion. Now he was living in a place that could be barely considered as society, let alone a home. Everything was so… desolate. Even in the illusion that his former world was, at least there was color and vibrance.
her eyes sparkled and he didnt know what was happening. she slowly transformed into something he had never even thought could exist. all of her hair grew longer and longer and he couldnt even recognize her anymore. he shook is head in disbelief and fear, about to run but then suddenly she was her again, looking as she always did
“Don’t!” Arvey screamed, grabbing Quinoni’s arm. “It’s just an illusion! It’s not there!”
Quinoni did not seem to hear her, or see her. She continued to walk toward the ever distorting, ever frightening mirage. Arvey could see it, too, all too vividly. Whatever had been slipped into their goblets was potent. All around them, people were laughing.
“Qui!” Arvey shrieked.
the thought of being a illusion is that the world around is isnt what everyone thought it was, its a dream that cant escape.. a heart that thinks its in love but is sadly mistaken. we live in a illusion that the world around us is real.. is the easter bunny real.. if you can answer that one deeming question then you have it all figured out dont you.. we are the illusion of a real world. we just have to figure out how to make it real.
we can defy the realness of it all or we can blend it with the illusion we believe to be reality.
I for one want the choice to live in the real or in the illusion.
the thought of being a illusion is that the world around is isnt what everyone thought it was, its a dream that cant escape.. a heart that thinks its in love but is sadly mistaken. we live in a illusion that the world around us is real.. is the easter bunny real.. if you can answer that one deeming question then you have it all figured out dont you.. we are the illusion of a real world. we just have to figure out how to make it real.
It was very hard for me to accept the fact that this life I was living was nothing but an illusion.
“In the event that you realize you’re speaking to an illusion, my dear,” She smiles archly, “redirect your words inwards. Silly thing, you should know when you’re talking to a mirror.”
“I don’t project!”
“Must you really protest the obvious?”
Today is too joyous a day to reminisce about you darling.
But both of us know I can’t help but think of you so instead I’ll remember the time I sat next to you, head on your shoulder, fingers tangled together, listening to your pulse as it beat in your throat.