For in dreams we enter a world that is entirely our own. A world entirely my own consists of nothing less than the entirety of you. I've always liked how things that oppose so boldly fit so perfectly together.
You know how they always say opposites attract?
Subconscious thought and conscious thought may be opposites like hot and cold, but I swear when you burned me with your everlasting flame it was so hot that I felt like I was freezing.
My conscious thought is always filled with your life. You're alive in me. Whenever I'm awake, you're fluttering inside the structure of my mind.
My dreams are filled with your death.
You're sick, you're dead, it's too late, I couldn't save you.
Your life flashed before my eyes so quickly your life and death are a blur.
Are life and death opposites or are they just two variations of the same form of perceptual experience?
When you're alive and I'm conscious are you just as much a part of me when I'm unconscious and you're dead?
Opposites attract and our charges couldn't be more polar but the gravity of you has me so magnetically drawn that I couldn't stay away if I tried.
For in dreams we're in a world that is entirely our own and yet to oppose that my world is yours.

The walls around the labyrinth that is my mind aren't very tall or thick. They aren't difficult to tear down. You're just scared because you've never seen this kind of wall before and you don't know how to get around it.
Or maybe you were initially intrigued by this maze that suddenly fabricated around you, but you grew weary trying to find your way out.
Maybe you just had some time to spare and that's why you gave it to me.
You had no idea that while you were circling around them, the walls of my mind were studying you too.
Maybe your arms wanted to see if they could hold up my flaws and thats why they wrapped sturdily around me.
You analyzed the direction of this maze trying to find your way in the same way you found your way out. The direction of the walls of my mind were following the direction of the curves of your sly grin.
You were following the lines of my internal structure and that's when you figured out that you were running in circles. You were following yourself.
Maybe your heartbeat wanted me to know that it could beat on its own and thats why you pressed your chest against my ear.
That's when you broke out of the maze and left it unfinished.
The walls of my mind stopped twisting in the place that you left.
Maybe your feet wanted to seal the walls of mind and thats why they burned your footprints in them forever.

I don't really know what I'm writing about because I'm writing about everything. Yes, right now, this. This is about everything. All I know is that I don't know everything. And I know that in life there are some things. Some are good things some are bad things. You're a good thing.
Good things are things like when the sun shines in your face and it doesn't make you mad because it hurts your eyes, but instead you think its pretty cool that it stopped raining. Good things are like when you're driving and instead of just driving you have somewhere to go. Good things are like when you jump in a pool and feel the water splash and you don't sink down because you don't want to drown.
Bad things are like when you're walking down a street through a crowd, and you see everyone except that one person. So you bump into everyone and trip a couple times and just keep walking without a destination. Bad things are like when you're running and running so you can hide from that monster that's chasing you. But then you realize that the monster is you.
All I know about life is that I don't know everything. But I know that the sun comes up every morning whether you want it to or not. I know that if you throw a rock into a lake it'll ripple and make waves. I know that when you give your heart to someone most of the time they'll end up breaking it.
I don't really know what I'm writing about because I'm writing about everything.
So tell me.
There are good things and there are bad things and I told you I was writing about
Every
Thing
Am I a bad thing?

Worthless. I am worthless.
Stuck in this hole I dug myself
I forgot which way is up
"I'm digging, I'm digging!"
It's worthless.
I am worthless.
Am I digging myself out or
Digging myself deeper?
I should give up.
I can't give up.
Fingers bleeding as I
Tightly grip the shovel
Sweat dripping down my face
"I'M DIGGING OKAY!"
Pressure closing in around me
Dirt clinging to my waist
Where your hands should be
I see your face
I was never good enough
Thats why you left
My aching bones are crumbling
"I'm... still... digging"
Maybe I should rest
I'm running out of air
Breathing is worthless
I am worthless.
Is all I see darkness or
Just absence of light?
Were you ever around?
Or just dirt under my feet,
A figment of my imagination?
What was that sound?
I put my shovel down.
It's worthless.
I look up
I see you
You were there all along
I just didn't notice
I am not worthless.