Dreams

I woke up this morning with the whisper of last nights dreams still in my head. They were realistic dreams. Dreams that made me believe everything was happening, and it was all good. When I opened my eyes, I remembered who I really am, where I am, and all the confusion that comes with it. And I wanted desperately to go back to sleep.

Now, I'm thinking of going to bed until class this afternoon. Going to class, then going back to bed until class tomorrow morning. Living my life in the world of dreams.

What's the Point?

What's the point of a blog that no one's reading? And what's the point of a life that no one's loving? What's the point of brushing your teeth when you know you're going to chew gum to keep the bad breath away? What's the point of a guitar if you know you're never playing? What's the point of crying if you know it doesn't make it better? And what's the point of all those books on the shelf that I know I'll never open? Is just knowing that those things are there enough? Or to truly be useful do they need to be used? For my life to be lived, must I truly be loved?

if you're reading this...

i miss you.