She yearned to meet that mountain.
The one that was impossible to scale.
The trek was tough.
But, because of her grit, she climbed the impossible.
She was in love with that high mountain.
Ah! What a sight it was. She spanned her eyes to the left and the right.
The magnanimity of the view.
The snow caped mountains. The sun brimming bright.
Not a sight of a single soul. Just birds flying high,
the nature playing a tune that was hypnotizing.
She felt accomplished.

Suddenly, she discovered she has vertigo.
**THE END.

A lie often repeated, even to oneself, becomes a fact.
A fact that is your truth.
A fact that has your sanctity.
A fact that has your confidence.
A fact with conviction.
A fact with faith.
A fact with your trust.
And you are so sure with that assumption or that lie,
that when the truth comes back to haunt you,
you hide in the thickest blanket ever.
In a state of induced oblivion.

Oblivion is the place where all my best thoughts reside or I must say hide.
Because Where I will find peace other than in oblivion?
So, yes, that unreal thing is real.
the truth is now untrue.
Indeed, it's a  happy world
when you just don't have a clue.

*"The great events of life often leave one unmoved; they pass out of consciousness, and, when one thinks of them, become unreal. Even the scarlet flowers of passion seem to grow in the same meadow as the poppies of oblivion.” - Oscar Wilde