More of the dying dreams, where sleep is restless, and waking is never much anticipated. Dreams of my parents dying in a plane crash, but really never knowing for sure because there is no news coverage, no words from officials stating whether or not the crash did in fact happen. It's all mush up there. These dreams are tiresome.

I'm bottling the sadness inside me, telling myself that it will pass, that I'll be okay. There are limited people that will understand, and moreso, even begin to listen to my sad sap story. Shit, I should start writing things that are actually appealing to others instead of wallowing in my own self-pity. Fuck it.