In all reality

we've all seen a loved one pass away, I'm on an edge that would destroy the vindictive self I once called my well being

I've seen her, very fragile yet hah, so brash, giving me the strength to see life as it is

through disease and punishment I saw her defeat statistics, so much strength

its a gift we rarely see and are lucky to be bestowed upon; a chance to influence and help our realizations strike home towards what it is to be mortal, look towards our own chance to change the bubble around us....

good homes for good souls

Had a dream(I know its fucking gay(DON'T SWEAR) but whatever)

in it I was at a party, a little get together and with the love of my life, then BAM! my dream girl was perusing around the room with our group and came up to me and commented

'well I'm glad you've met a really beautiful girl, you must love her, occasionally I wonder why it couldn't have been me'

sidenote:
I've known this dream girl since I was 6 and I've been told by my mom and her siblings that she had an interest in me but blew it off because she was too... just too... I don't know... pretty, but that doesn't really sum it up

I replied--

'I do love her she's everything I could ask for, yet when we bumped into each other, you were genuinely excited to see me and I pushed away the feign possibility of us being together, ignored you out of shame because of your new husband and I felt sick, yet I've never stopped seeing my future without you'

we then shared a starry eyed moment of possible futures together, I imagined resorts in Monaco, she saw us in Paris; dipping our feet in the ocean off of the coast of Brazil and a blank dark page appeared

then my eyelids opened

the reality of being alive replied to me as such

" HEY FAG, STOP LIVING IN THE PAST, ITS 8AM AND YOU SHOULD REALIZE NONE OF THAT SHIT MATTERS MAKE THE BEST OF WHAT YOU HAVE AND STOP FUCKING PISSING AND MOANING OF WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN"

and thats pretty much how my mornings are, my dreams are where I live out beautiful 'ifs' and see landscapes of possibilities unfold before me; reaching out to touch the supple creations that is my soul, but my cynical, obtuse and basically chemically controlled mind won't have any of that nonsense

I hate having dreams about her, mainly it amounts to nothing but regret, which I apparently have enough to spare and drip onto my actual daily happenings

the main point of all the garbage I just spilled is that there is no way anyone can see past an alcoholic joke of a man on the verge of insanity to see what I really am

an empty and void of emotion counselor