One more shot and I’ll be on my way.

​When you think about something for an hour and a half before falling into a very uncomfortable sleep odds are you will dream about said thing. If you’re drunk you will most definitely dream of this thing. You will probably also wake up early- an ungodly hour. Before six am if you’re so unlucky. Your eyes will be crusted with yesterday’s make up and sleep. Your stomach will have lava bubbling inside of it- loud, demanding. Your head will be pounding. And once you have an understanding of your surroundings, you’ll more than likely wish you were still in your dream. The residue of something so brilliant and soft and perfect- fading away the longer you keep your eyes open. If you just closed them, if you tried really hard… maybe you could get back there. Maybe.

But it’s never the same. There’s something more magical about your subconscious creating your thoughts and pictures than your normal brain going, “hm yes. I think I’ll torture myself with this. Why not?” That bullshit is meant for before bed. Before bed only. 

I need coffee so I can wash away the remainder of that. Coffee or alcohol or gasoline or fire. Whichever. Get rid of this. There’s so much guilt. Why does my drunk head leave me with this? Its whatever. You’re whatever. None of it means anything. I’m not a bad person. I just think too much about too much. I just think. Can I get a switch? Something to help shut off what I can’t forget? Whatever. You’re whatever.

No. I’m whatever. 

You’re brilliant. You’re soft. You’re perfect.

I’ll be perfect when I’m dead.


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