is your dream your own? how did you get here? what do you want to do?

where did your dream stem from? was it birthed by the past you so desperately wanted to erase? then what is there to be proud of? how do you tell people that you want to _____________ when you can't bring yourself to talk about the origin of it anyway? what are you trying to do? are you trying to cover up what happened by piling atop it hopes and wants that you don't even deserve?

how can you ask me why you feel so empty? don't you know better than me? isn't it because you've masked that part of you that you are so ashamed of and have pushed away until a large ear-ringing blankness took up most of your consciousness? you think you're compressing that past into something small and forgettable, don't you? well, you can squeeze it into a single point that could be washed away by a long sob or deep sigh but that makes its existence all the more poignant and intense, did you know that? you can't just cram something like that into a .1x.1x.1 ml^3 bit of space and expect it to disappear. isn't that why every time you cry you can't breathe and you panic and you can't move and you can't form a single string of thoughts and you feel like you don't exist at all? and what you've been all along is a single molecule in a distal time, pressurized, vibrating, a dull point amongst a skyline of burning and burnt-out stars.