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I'm learning
Stuff about myself, via Suicidal Friend.

He posed a Vanilla Sky question: would you want to live in your dreams, if you got to dream of good things?

I must be nuts. (And we know I am.)

I said I wouldn't trade this life for a dream. Sickness, death, hardship? It's all mine. I was a bit of an asshole about it, recounting some of my recent dreams.

A recent dream: I'm running around with the lead singer from Offspring, he's a revolutionary. We pass by grim reapers hanging themselves from a wooden structure. Dream jumps, and suddenly I'm talking to Londo Mollari. He's telling me he was buried alive in his father's casket. He comes out of the casket, a little shrunken form in a sarcophagus next to him. White hair tufts out the top. Mollari proceeds to tell me some stuff I forgot upon waking up.

Now, I know for sure that that ain't how Mollari died on Babylon 5.

Dreams are weird.

But -- SuiFri's question. I was pretty adamant about toughing shit out. Either this anti-depressant is kicking in, or, I have a pretty badass grip on my life. I'm willing to work things out. Struggle. All I really want in my life is to find real love, and succeed as some kind of artist. It seems like a lot.

I figure, everyone has a real powerful love in life, right?

Why can't I.

I figure, I have 'talents'. Maybe they'll pay off, somehow.

I don't know why I'm so willing to live in this reality. Maybe I'm too used to it; maybe I see it as a work in progress. Maybe I hate to abandon who and what I am, for artificial contentness.

I am me. And, maybe I'll be okay.

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*DISCLAIMER
* WHO TF IS ALL THIS??!
* INTRO, 2
* NAQ

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Circa 2010