I wonder why I feel so bad most of the time but I don't have tears to wipe away.  Maybe they're invisible but if that's the case and they aren't real why do they burn so much?

I came to the conclusion the quality of life was degrading.  All I could think about then was how there's no refunding it since no idiot would put a warranty on a life.

I dream about helping others but when I do it in real life it makes me feel unstable.  Where's the reward I'm supposed to feel and why am I looking for it instead of the thank you I'm supposed to get?  The answer may be because I get neither one but I still have a long laundry list if I'm going to make my dreams come true.

I came to the conclusion that being poor was a reflection of the self and so looking in the window and seeing myself and the others, on every kind of poverty support that exists, I realized I was rich.

I saw a cute girl in a supermarket, she was with her mother.  Upon closer inspection she was on a cellphone pushing a cart with her son in it.  Standard fare really; she was really cute after all.

I dreamed that I had finally done it.  I had snapped and opened fire in the middle of the train platform.  As many times as I'd heard everyone say it, not a single person died fighting back.

I saw her speeding in a car full of friends in the parking lot.  I stopped in time and it's sad, she gave my car a passing glance and would've just slammed into it if I hadn't stopped but at the same time, there are no rules in the parking lot.

The scariest part isn't the dreams themselves but the fact that I never want to wake up...