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Dreams.

Perfection is the stuff of dreams. If this is true, then I'm having a nightmare. I never knew perfect sadness is possible. You can't be perfectly sad. There has to be a bit of happiness in there somewhere. Or so I used to believe. The world loves to prove you wrong. It has a sick sense of humor. I am perfectly sad. Perfect sadness is the stuff of nightmares. I know of nightmares very well. I have chosen not to sleep tonight. I don't know when sleep will come. It's the dreams I fear. That's where I see him, all the time, in so many different ways. Compared to things other people have experienced, other griefs, other pains, other sufferings, mine does not compare. This is only a broken heart. This is only disappointment. This is only the pain I feel because I think things are unfair. I thought I was special. I wanted to be special. But I think he kissed her, and he hugged her for such a long time. Longer than he did me. And I realized the truth. I am not special. I am...
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Secrets

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Uncertain

It has been a good minute since the last post, hasn't it? Everyone else is moving with their lives, some of them away from myself. That's not necessarily bad. Some bridges needed burning. Some friendships needed breaking. Some people need growing. So where do I fall? I am stationary. No, silly, not pencils, erasers and clicky things that smell nice. I'm still, although I move daily. There are things that are improving, like the size of my belly and the amount of energy I feel I have. There is more freedom, even in this small space. I have new... should I call them acquaintances? We're not friends. Connections? Maybe that's a more suitable word. We do little else but fuck, so seems too much to put any effort in worrying about it. And I finally did it. I am strawberry blonde on a good day, darker brown with highlights on others. Then there's the silence. I have so much of it. An abundance of quiet to share. The biggest uncertainty comes from the fear that I a...
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