If my brain were made up of calcium, I would give it a mental floss.
I’ve been moping around, waiting for the world to devour itself. Seriously, how long have I been doing this? I might be waking up one day, knowing I’ll be destined to marry my couch with a bag of Marty’s. I do waive my chances of actually getting a life.
It’s time I clean up the mess made by my old pathetic self.
Although in defense, I’m still going somewhere by only aiming at what seemed to be the quickest way to go someplace else: my remote control. And my favorite destination? Channel V.
***
Last night I dreamed of myself walking on the sides of a bay. I got to a very long dock. It stretched with every step I took to the edge. Until I got to the end of it. The water was as calm as a sleeping child. And a person was standing behind me I didn’t know what he wanted from me. But I turned against him and dove to the clear waters.
I still have no idea to what that dream could mean. Then I searched all over the interwebs.
To see a bay in your dream represents understanding. Something has become clearer to you. The dream may also suggest that you are keeping someone at a distance and not letting them get too close to you, as in keeping them “at bay”.
What if the stranger in my dream read this? Would he have, in real life dove after me after I turned my back on him? Or would he just remain in stoicism.
Not even myself could tell who that stranger was. He was tall. His head was partially shaved. He had bigger hands. I never saw his eyes nor could tell the sound of his voice when he called my name.
***
Why act now when you can save the job for later?
This is a bum’s excuse. I easily reward myself with the little accomplishments I make like cleaning my room, going to church, praying the rosary before bedtime. Am I even aware of how I treat myself with the least consolation for not having to knock-off the bigger responsibilities (*coughs* Midterm Exam)?
Yes, I traded the time for studying for a breakfast with a friend and an office mate.
***
The world is a stage, life is the plot and I’m just a drama queen.
I act like a homeless person when I do have four walls, a roof and some pennies to spare for a meal. I act miserable when I’m really not. I am sitting here wondering if all this drama is caused by listening to a dark Blink-182 song.
***
The equation for alienation: Converting thoughts into words. And the limit may not exist.
I love over-thinking. It’s the minute details I incessantly discuss with people that makes me sound blasphemous and overbearing. And eventually, misconceived…
***
Paranoia seems to be a better bed than the actual one.
I should really sleep.
