I’m arrested by the consciousness I have to my own subconscious; in a permanent state of confusion on what is real and what presents itself as a half-memory, an interpretation of conflict. A staged feeling of how I should have behaved in an unknown moment in time.

I care about everything and nothing at the same time.

I’m looking for something which doesn’t exist.

A feeling that’s never been felt.

A dream that’s never been dreamt.

A person I’ll never see.

I’m looking for someone I can’t ever be, and the disappointment I have is palpable; and yet I know you’re there too, searching for me.

And so we will never meet.

I’m sorry that I love you so much.