the present is well out of hand...
i dreamt i tried to save her. she was a blue girl, i was crazy, and we were in a home for mutants and the mentally ill. the administrators had taken her to the basement labyrinth, to their offices amid cells with iron bars and leaking walls, and they were going to do terrible things to her. i woke up before i could find her, and as hard as i tried, i never could go back to that dream again.
i dreamt he greeted me warmly on a cold autumn afternoon, smiling. a sense of belonging consumed me, and i woke up with an ache in my chest that still has not faded completely.
i dreamt she looked at me, smiled, took a drag off her cigarette. she was beautiful, and she had never loved me. that time, i woke wondering if she had taken up smoking yet. she always did seem to be the type who would make it look elegant.
in between, i dream of dim, feral landscapes and life-and-death struggles. i see children playing amid broken, stoned adults, oblivious to their altered state and intent only on spending time with their parental figures. i kill, i maim, i die. i dream every night, which i've heard means i'm not sleeping well.
classes have started again. i don't know if i want to be here. but i don't think i have a choice, really. another semester to sink or swim. too early to tell which it will be.
there are four people i miss above all others, even as i catch a few minutes of conversation with one or the other of them. i miss deep conversations, i miss venting, i miss having the time to discuss the things that lie heavy on my mind without needing to do a massive exposition dump first. the people who know exactly how my head works are either disappeared or fading.
it's so hard to find people to open up to. people who trust implicitly and explicitly in your questionable sanity and your need to voice the improbable truth. i had four, HAVE four, but i'm still unbearably lonely. i've done stupid things to make it harder on myself, and i don't know how to fix any of it.
every waking moment and a good portion of my unwaking ones, i am consumed by memory and nostalgia and grief and the thought that something might be terribly wrong here and there's nothing i can do about it.
my vices may need some reviewing if i want to get through this one.
but i suppose i can take some small comfort in the idea that bonds of camaraderie are not easily broken by time and in the thought that i may not be as alone as i feel i am.
still.
i miss you, i love you, and i wish we had more time together...
i dreamt he greeted me warmly on a cold autumn afternoon, smiling. a sense of belonging consumed me, and i woke up with an ache in my chest that still has not faded completely.
i dreamt she looked at me, smiled, took a drag off her cigarette. she was beautiful, and she had never loved me. that time, i woke wondering if she had taken up smoking yet. she always did seem to be the type who would make it look elegant.
in between, i dream of dim, feral landscapes and life-and-death struggles. i see children playing amid broken, stoned adults, oblivious to their altered state and intent only on spending time with their parental figures. i kill, i maim, i die. i dream every night, which i've heard means i'm not sleeping well.
classes have started again. i don't know if i want to be here. but i don't think i have a choice, really. another semester to sink or swim. too early to tell which it will be.
there are four people i miss above all others, even as i catch a few minutes of conversation with one or the other of them. i miss deep conversations, i miss venting, i miss having the time to discuss the things that lie heavy on my mind without needing to do a massive exposition dump first. the people who know exactly how my head works are either disappeared or fading.
it's so hard to find people to open up to. people who trust implicitly and explicitly in your questionable sanity and your need to voice the improbable truth. i had four, HAVE four, but i'm still unbearably lonely. i've done stupid things to make it harder on myself, and i don't know how to fix any of it.
every waking moment and a good portion of my unwaking ones, i am consumed by memory and nostalgia and grief and the thought that something might be terribly wrong here and there's nothing i can do about it.
my vices may need some reviewing if i want to get through this one.
but i suppose i can take some small comfort in the idea that bonds of camaraderie are not easily broken by time and in the thought that i may not be as alone as i feel i am.
still.
i miss you, i love you, and i wish we had more time together...