Dreamer

I would just like to come out the other side of this shit intact.  But, in case I don’t, I’m having a little fun on the way. 

What is it with us?  We live for the dream.  For the dream.  For the fucking dream. 

It’s just a fucking dream.

But this is where we are right now. 

Here.

Sometimes I envy the person I was.  I envy the people where I used to be.

I envy their contentment.

I’ve learned to look down on it.  To expect more.  To dream.

But all I do is dream and hope and wait and work hard and hope I come out the other side intact and try to have a little fun until I do, but I know all the time that this isn’t it – it’s not it, not the dream.

So I wait and work and occasionally have a little fun and I get older and a summer comes by, then another and another until Oh my fucking good God, time has passed and life has passed and there’s so little time for the dream and I’m still here trying to get through and not die on the way and have a little fun, so maybe some day the dream will just fucking come and Jesus – it wears me out.

I’m told I just have to be patient.  But I’m not that kind of dreamer.