at least a flight would have taken me somewhere, anywhere, everywhere.

i feel like i have jet lag, but i don't.

i feel like i'm floating, but i'm not.

i feel like i could sleep forever, but i can't.

i feel stagnant, and i don't understand.

i hurt.

i feel strange.

my dream was weird last night. 

my dream has scared me. 

the book i'm reading has made me think.

about life, and relationships; truth and lies. 

how things can begin in a second, how they can end just as fast. 

about the distinction of a day, how they can still blur as one.

of the loss of having nothing, of the empowerment of having at least a friend.

if i wrote down my life and read it back, would i be impressed? not so much. would you either? 

i hate thinking that much. 

i hate where i've led myself. 

i hate that this fear has returned. 

i need to get out.

i need to breathe. 

i want to go and walk in the rain. 

i want to drown my sorrows.

but i can't even do that.