ubiquitous, yet so absent
almost to the point of not existing.
are you real? have i created you?
i do not ask if you are but a dream;
no, i am not so trapped in my head to
believe that. but where does the real
end and the ideal begin? where does
the ideal end and the real begin?
i truly cannot separate or distinguish the two—
and because of this, i constantly find myself
in states of terrible disappointment
i feel it in my being. i feel it physically.
you sometimes make me sick
is it fair that i should be so captivated by
someone whose reality, whose sum and
substance i am always doubting and questioning?
no.
not the the degree in which i find myself involved..
almost to the point of not existing.
are you real? have i created you?
i do not ask if you are but a dream;
no, i am not so trapped in my head to
believe that. but where does the real
end and the ideal begin? where does
the ideal end and the real begin?
i truly cannot separate or distinguish the two—
and because of this, i constantly find myself
in states of terrible disappointment
i feel it in my being. i feel it physically.
you sometimes make me sick
is it fair that i should be so captivated by
someone whose reality, whose sum and
substance i am always doubting and questioning?
no.
not the the degree in which i find myself involved..
“
| — | where is my mind? by sarah |
