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This was written after a really vivid dream and I was a little sleepy, so it probably will make sense only to me (as most of these posts). It’s funny that I wrote in english even though I had just woken up.

I am walking on a road, there are no cars coming, so I’m in the middle of it. The sky is clear and the sun is killing me. I feel tired. I see nothing but the horizon. It makes me feel uneasy, because I need to have some kind of perspective as to where I am going, when I’m getting there or what can I do in this situation. Out of nowhere, like most dreams, I’m inside an office, seated and writing a letter to you. I pour my heart out. I think I get cramps from writing so much – the pages fall on the floor, there are so many of them. I take them all, with no organization scheme whatsoever; I’m clumsy with the papers – they might get blown in the wind, but I don’t care – I’m worried about something else. I keep saying to myself that I need to mail it to you immediately. 

It’s sunday, so the post office doesn’t work. I get angry, I’m not sure why. It’s a mix of the things I wrote and how they make me feel and also because there won’t be any mailing service. I start reading what I wrote. It’s all been said before. This is what makes me angry, now I think of it. Because there’s no new facts – just me, apologizing. Over and over. I don’t even know what for – because after so many times the meaning is lost. Oh, the loss of meaning. So many questions, so many explanations, but no answer really.

listening while writing: Frank Ocean – Thinkin’ About You

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