It’s like I dreamed it, waking up in that place.  It’s kind of like taking some kind of dream journey and believing yourself to be still in that dream world full of birds and rainbows and trails of starlight and then suddenly waking up only to realize that there’s stars in your face and the flapping of wings across a rainbow sky, the sun cascading down your back, covered in warm bed sheets… it’s like it was a dream, fragmented and dark blue/gray.  But it wasn’t.  It wasn’t a dream.  I was there.  I did wake up there and it was the best morning of my entire life, those feelings swimming deeply inside my heart, wrapping themselves around me like the tighest, most romantic hug.  I was there, I swear.

Maybe you don’t remember.  Maybe that same dreamland passed you by because you were blinded by whatever else came along, whatever else happened.  Maybe you’re lying in bed right now, by yourself, thinking desperately about that time when you were truly happy and how since that moment, life has passed you by.  A year has gone by with nothing but a wasteland of booze and time – endless strings of dull fraying time.  And perhaps if you could reach down into yourself and pull up that dream fantasy land, of warm sun even in the coldest days in February, of those happy moments spent being childlike excited about all of the delightful things that would come in the future, maybe you could return there.  But you won’t.  Because you can’t remmeber that place.  You feel you’ve grown up from it now and that it is gone forever.  But maybe it’s not.  It’s not too late to return there.  It’s never too late!  Honestly, it’s not!

Please come with me.  Please leave behind what you’ve built for yourself now and come with me, back there.  Remember holding my hand and remember joy growing like flowers all around you, and remember making someone fundamentally unhappy — so china-hearted that she’s constantly feeling shattered and falling down off a cliff somewhere in some idle, hateful place — happy, for one night in what she thought was all just a dream.  I was happy!  I was!  Please, please, please listen to me.  I’m little, I’m diminutive, I’m nothing and I’m even MORE nothing for caring at all about your return to a place that is forever lost in my subconscious, I’m homely and plain and stupid and sometimes I’m too loud and sometimes I’m demanding and restless and annoying and bratty and so fucking superior that you want to rip your hair out.  And sometimes I sound like I’m crazy and I don’t make any sense and I quote the sappiest lines from the most quietly melodramatic songs or spout the names of bands no one’s ever heard of except for a precious elite few people that deserve to know who those bands are.  Sometimes I’m lazy.  And sometimes I’m awkward.  And sometimes I go through bouts of self-loathing and self-hatred that cannot be matched by anyone or anything in the whole entire world.  And these are things I despise about myself.  But I wish that you didn’t.  I wish you looked at all of the things I just mentioned and learn to love them, or remember that you loved them, or could love them, or could have loved them all this time.  And when we sat there in that dreamy place with feathers floating down on our heads and colours spanning across the sky, splashing, diving down into the horizon, we could have stayed there forever, if only… if only… you didn’t slip through my hands like sand seeping into the bottom of a timer.  Now all the sand is gone except a few granules, just two or three.  And I’m hanging onto them but it seems less and less likely that Ican and I just want… I just want… please………. don’t go.  Never go, ever.  Keep looking at me with your eyes and smiling at me with your mouth and just stay.  Have coffee, have diamonds, have all of my money and all of my possessions.  As long as it keeps you here.. please!

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