All I Find Are Faded Pictures From Some Distant Life

And I wish to God I could see your eyes.

Song: Daylight...Ron Pope

If you've ever wondered why I can write like a full blown genius (yuck yuck), but always capitalize every word of my titles and use ellipses between song titles and their artists, it was a conscious decision I made when I created this blog as an expression of the deep and complex feelings I have about the nature of this is my blog and I can make my own freaking rules about it. Magnets, bitch.

Once, a few years ago, I had an idea. Like most of my ideas, it never became anything real. I never fully pursued it. After learning about lucid dreaming, I was briefly determined to train myself into being able to completely control my dreams. At first, my intention was simply (or not so simply) to choose my dreams. I was infatuated with the idea of meeting celebrities, flying, befriending talking animals, eating mountains of oreos and chocolate chip cookie dough. For that couple of weeks, I looked forward to sleeping even more than I usually did as a lazy teenager. I thought about being on huge stages in front of millions, bouncing on the tops of clouds, breathing underwater. At first, that's all it was about.

Then, the idea -as if it wasn't a bit far fetched to begin with- developed into something even more akin to The Matrix movies. I began to think that if I was able to control my dreams so well that I knew I was dreaming, there had to be a way to stay there longer. Time, for anyone that has ever had a very good or a very bad dream, obviously works differently when you're sleeping. I thought that maybe I would be able to live out whole "days" in my dreams. Maybe I could "live" another "life". Maybe, by controlling my dreams to such an extent, I would be able to lose control. Maybe one day, I would be able stay forever.

My heart still breaks every day at how unattainable this is.


I was just sitting in my chair, staring at the wall, and wishing I could briefly see into the future. I wish I could know if things ever really do get better inside. What I mean is, are my feelings and outlooks going to change with the mere addition of years to my life? I know it's inevitable that the outside will change. I'll get a better job, I'll move out. The situation will improve, but will I? Will things always be this hard to deal with, will I always cry this much, will I always be dreading something, looking for answers to questions I don't fully comprehend, fucking WISH all the time for things that won't come, be tired, cold, sad fucking lonely regrets stuck down dark