Pure truth, that’s what I give now, the painful kind, the kind that rules my mind, telling me I’m full of shit to think this is going to get better, it’s over.

I want more than that in this life.

In theory if someone is there, you are not alone. Technically, I have a pair, yet merely an occasional sharing of ideas, of air.

I need more than that in this life.

I don’t come in anger, but desperation, searching for a way to maintain my daily motivation, knowing I stopped feeling anything.

I want what’s not mine, the dream.

However, I fear my favorite distraction, my secret dream needs not my thoughts in his world, full enough without some stupid fucking fan-girl.

Then, I imagine blues as clear as sky and fly high.