I don't dream anymore. It's when the clock turns back to early numbers that makes me think harder on it. I don't sleep any better, I sleep less, and I don't dream anymore.
Not since I came back.
I wonder what changed and what didn't change. I feel sick again, nearly all the time. Not sick of being here, exactly, but sick of myself and the way I am.
For all that I preach acceptance of self...
People sometimes tell me the first step is admitting there is a problem. Oh yeah, there is. But the sheer disappointment in they eyes of my supposed supporters would be enough to tell anyone that. If they looked at the right people.
We won't always confess to out closest friends, sometimes we need something distant and untouched to pass judgment.
They'd be disappointed if I could bring myself to say anything, I'm sure.
Silence is best. Let secrets rest, they are not yours to know or tell.
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Lived & Died Where Worlds Collide
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