i hate patterns.

i condemn myself everytime i see myself caught on something that reflects a repetition. and unfortunately, this happens often. too often. i am condemning myself right now. i hate hate hate hate this place where i am.

but hey, i love it too. too much to hate it.

(another blurry entry where nothing is really sure.)

problem is, i have nothing to hold onto this time but the idea of an ideal future thriving with an ideal dream. i dream. all the time. and in my dreams, everything is mine.

and so, i BLOODY hate it when my dreams are being purloined. because they are everything that is mine. they may mean nothing to the real world, but they mean the world to me. my dreams are mine. mine mine mine. no matter how i reiterate that to myself, im still so pissed. i want to snatch my dreams back. but i know, my dreams are mine.

bullshit.

dreams cannot be snatched. but why do i feel so much of a victim?

of that cyclical "thief".
of my forseeable self.
of the illusioned "crime" itself, dreaming.