Dreams

I had a dream that I walked outside and looked into the sky and comet holmes, or something, exploded.

And then there was clarity.


I wish I could remember my dreams better.

Sometimes I wish my life really was a dream, so that I could change things. Or so that everytime I dropped out of REM, the world would end, just waiting for a new one to begin.

It's amazing how many types of melancholy there can be. There's one when you're alone and there's still one when you think you're not. People scare me.
I care too much.
Why am I so selfish?
And selfless. Selfless by means of not knowing why I am the way I am.
I can't stand up for myself because I don't want someone to ever feel as sad as I do sometimes.

What caused me to be this way. I thought I'd be ready by now, but inconsistency has always been my own worst enemy. Fuck. I need to control myself.

Everyone knows about this theory. Or concept. Or question. How come you can know what's wrong with you and not be able to fix it? But you can help anyone else that has a problem right away.

Thinking. Constently thinking. Doubt and hope. I'm sorry.

Like really sorry. If you actually do tell the truth, then I'm especially sorry and if you're trying to fuck with my head, then I'm sorry if it was too easy for you.

The recluse is born now.

Phone's on silent or off.

Computer is off or on, but lacking aim and myspace, for homework support.


I need my dignity back.

Or whatever that thing is that gives you pride and confidence and keeps you from making a fool of yourself.


I'll just need a few days, I hope.


If you really want me or need me or whatever, then I'm sorry, but you have to try harder to show it. And if you feel you shouldn't need to, then I'll probably never live up to my potential.

I really am a pretty great guy, but my flaw is being a manic, bipolar, little bitch who can't really handle any type of relationship very well.

That's why every best friend and love I've ever had are gone.