Dreams...

A series of images that plays in the mind while the body is at rest.

Do they mean anything? Can we possibly learn anything from them? Are they really wishes our hearts make?

I like to think not. I've had some pretty messed up dreams that make no sense. I've had some that I'm terrified of.

But I've also had dreams that I want to go back to. Some bittersweet ones that have made me wake with a sense of nostalgia, or regret, or longing, or pain. It's those that really make me wonder:

Do dreams really mean anything? Can anything be said about what is going on in our subconscious based on what we remember from our dreams?

In related news, I'm spiraling again. Or maybe that's really not news. I don't know. I don't even know what has brought—

Of fucking course I do. A certain guy I play Grand Theft Auto with. Why does this keep happening to me? Let me rephrase that: Why do I keep doing this? I meet people and fall for them, when I never meant to. First it was Lazar, now it's this guy.

I don't even know if it is him. I think it's the concept. The thought of it. Sure, he's an amazing person. (And amusing, entertaining, wise, intelligent, sweet, considerate, adorable.) But it's the fact that these kind of people do exist in the world, and the only time I meet them is when I'm behind a screen. And I'm not meaning this in a creepy way. I mean that I can only meet people when it's anonymous.

I mean that my self-confidence is so fucking shot that I hole myself up in my room, away from the real world, and long for something I don't think I'll ever get. And you'd think that by now, I'd try and do something about this. Try and improve my self-image into something I want to be proud of.

But there's just so much wrong with me. The biggest thing, the thing that I can't change, is is the thing I was born with, and everything that comes with it. The scars, most importantly. The most noticeable one: the A.C.E. procedure. That fucking bulge in my abdomen. I can't get rid of that. I can lose weight, but that bulge will still be there.

And that all boils down to the fact that I was born fucked up, and it's going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

And it's that little fact right there that makes me wonder why I'm still alive and trying. My life is never going to get better. I'll always be fucked up. I can't change the past. So why bother trying to make the future into something that it can never be?