Once again I find myself sitting here with the morning light creeping in through my so carefully shut blinds. Once again... It's at this point in time that I wonder if it would be better just to stay awake. I'm not really even tired, yet, as crazy as that sounds and I think my body is eating itself from the inside out. I have a black hole forming in my stomach, matches so nicely with my lungs.

And I can't seem to stop crying, subtle tears that keep welling up in the corners of my eyes, keeping me blinking, keeping me awake...

All at once I notice the subtlties of life and it rushes into me with the bitterness and the cold of all that is outside these walls. This is what depression looks like. Hollow eyes, hollow smiles, hollow heart. I spend all my waking hours breaking all the rules and then lay awake wondering what exactly I did to make me feel so punished. It all adds up in the end, I'm just not willing to face the facts. I don't know why I do the things that I do, live so carelessly and claim it to be carefree. They aren't the same thing, not by a long shot.

I'm a dreamer. It's my livelyhood, my curse. It's leaving me too scared to live and yet I can't shed that layer of myself, the one that keeps everything hidden from everyone, and actually take on responsibilities- the ones that I crave but shun. There just too much at stake and the scariest part about reality is that it can't be changed. I'm too weary of making mistakes, of choosing wrong, of being not what I would hope that I can be- what I believe I should be. And I can't help but wonder, where is the reality in believing?