It’s weird how the absence of a little yellow face at the end of an instant message or text can give the impression of being sad or upset, and how we now measure “love” in kisses and hugs, sent to people whom in reality an embrace between would never happen, yet electronically we give kisses out like a drunk slut, needy and desperate for some human to take interest for a little while. It seems also to me that in the physical world, three words uttered softly into the ear of your dream is just as futile as seeking world peace, or trying to scream as the breath is ripped slowly from your chest when you see your dream cease to exist right in front of your pupils, and your limbs failing you; powerless to stop it turn nightmare in the arms of some other man. I pride myself in being clingy, holding tight and sure what I now own to myself, making sure no one else takes it away but at the same time giving it freedom under a watchful eye. My dream can be susceptible to underachieve at the targets I set it, the high bar I erected and expected to be met with ease and yet, no. I am no saint though, I fail too, and this only drives me to increase my grip on this fantasy of mine as with every mistake I make I can see that anonymous man take one step closer to stealing my dream, and my dream take one step away from me and towards him.
