Gary (ghomeypimp) wrote,

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I really hate dreams.

On the rare occaison that I actually have a vivid dream, it's usually one about a life too perfect for me, and I always wake up in my shitty existence with my mother yelling at me. I hate dreams because they show me everything that I can't have, and everything that I've already lost. They are a constant reminder of how off course my life has turned. It's like I'm watching what could have been, or what would have been if not for my stubborness and stupidity.

"But Gary, you can change your life around..."

No. No I can't. I'm not sure why I can't, it might be because I say/know that I can't. It might be because of some psychological problems, or some chemical deficiency in my brain.

Or it might be because not everyone has a good life. And it seems that some of us are meant to have a bad life.

And for those of us it doesn't matter how hard we try, how smart we are, or how nice we are - We will always fall. We are the bottom feeders. Scrounging to get by. And when you're surviving like that, having your spirits raised (even a little bit) can cause terrible depression once that hope has dispersed and you realize that you're still falling.

I had a good dream a few nights ago, and within 3 seconds of opening my eyes, I wanted to kill myself. It's a pain in the ass. It really is. I'm usually apathetic towards my life, but after a brief glimpse of 'what could have been' (or whatever) I begin to completely loathe living. It's completely fucking ridiculous.

See...on xanax I didn't think this much. Fucking Detox. (NEVER AGAIN)
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