I came down the stairs, excited to be back at my high school.
There was a committee downstairs...I wish I could remember what it was called.
A sign beside them said "talk to us!", so I did.
They were judgmental. They based my worthiness on how nicely my wrote my name.

I stormed off, furious, spitting and screaming at my friends at the superficial fraud of the entire system. My friends tried to stop me, running ahead of me and putting their arms out wide as if to blockade me from leaving.
A girl I don't recognize with dark hair, and was likely half Asian was the last to try to stop me from leaving.
then I woke up.

Untitled

What do you know of my pains of loving you.
Loving someone so much that you are their friend, and as their friend you wish them the fullest life possible.
The fullest life possible means I play a minor role. I am here to witness your travesties, but never being a main scene until perhaps, and only perhaps, the end.
Our love is a private endeavor. My pains are mine, and whether we are sharing them is a mystery to me.
Do you love me, or am I just manipulated, another object in your life that you have effect on.
I love you, loathe you, and fear you.
Fear what might happen, fear what might not happen; it is a constant battle where just a glimpse from you will make me swell up with happiness, or perhaps the same glance will break my heart.
In this way, I am forever more falling in love, out of love, and getting my heart mended and re-broken.
Is this healthy? No.
Is it fun? Sometimes.
Is it worth it? I'm not so sure.
But whatever it is, I know this much, whether deluded or not, I love you.
Oh, those who know the pains of irrational love and unfulfilled love - I empathize with you.
Perhaps all the love I need is imagined - I imagine us, the hurt, supporting each other.
And maybe, at least for the next five minutes, that's enough.

If only you could choose whom you loved.

Just a Dream

I dreamt we tried to fulfill the fantasy web we've been spinning as of late.
We went out to find the trifecta to our love.
You were overly zealous, perhaps punch-drunk in your approach -
vulgar. lewd. insensitive.
I hurt inside, but kept it to myself.
Finally you left, and I met someone almost just like you.
Thick bodied, seemingly shallow, and with a dick that grew even longer than yours.
We spent the night together, our bodies touching but not becoming one.
I woke up the next morning to find him getting dressed for school
"Don't go. Stay"
He obliged. Would you have?
His friend was in the bed beside us. Whether he had been watching, I don't know, nor had I cared.
The three of us eventually got up, and went out. He convinced me to go out naked.
I naively agreed, but soon discovered what a terrible idea it was. I was so ashamed, I tried to run; but I saw authoritative figures wherever I looked.
A young Asian man on a moped came by, and told me "Jess, you can't keep doing this". He put a snap-button shirt around me, and sat me down on the moped before he drove me back to collect my things.
As I went in, I met a younger girl. She seemed sad. She helped me, and I gave her three items of mine. A pass to let her into an event she wanted to attend, something I cannot remember, and all the change I could find. She looked so happy, and I felt happy to help her.
As she was leaving we exchanged boxing stances, throwing fake left and right jabs.

I’m getting better at analyzing my dreams.

But is the dream a manifestation of my inner beliefs and fears, or a message? Perhaps a message from my subconscious.