one
So here I am, living the dream.
Like lovers fit together, I fell into this town like a piece of a puzzle. It’s so surreal I am only sure it’s not a dream because I’ve been sober for the last couple of days. Sitting inside the school I’ve wanted to attend, walking the streets of the city I’ve want to live in, it seems like it was all too easy. It feels almost as if I am cheating, like I don’t even deserve to be here. But here I am, nonetheless, living the dream of the starving artist.
And oh, what a dream that is, one I’ve primed myself to live. There will be no money spent on frivilous expenses, no, no more. There will be food and there will be sleep and there will be work, and thats how I will live. Homework will envelope me. Sleep will evade me. And food will not fill me. I will walk until I blister, I will draw until I crash, like a plane, smashinng the table with my face, gruesome, ending in sleep. Pains will keep me up, fears willovertake my little mind and I will break, and it will happen a thousand times; I can see it, I can see my future…
This is the talk of the night. When you stay up late, thinking about all that is now gone, and all that is to come, and being the pessimist because it’s oh-so much easier than to look the sun in the sky and say hey, thank you for shining today. The rains will come and wash away my sorrows and the winter will leave me kindly, not freezing. And in three years we’ll see, do I have what it takes? Well, hopefully.
And will they come to visit me? Will I be alone all my life? or am I just free, waiting… to be?
Tired, useless, apathetic, lethargic, sore, flailing, falling, falling, dreaming…
Will you come visit me?
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