mixed messages

There’s no need to make teardrop tea my sweet. Things are not as bad as your little mind seems to think they are. I know “everything is going to be okay” seems like a lie but it really is true most of the time. Pick your head up off of your hands and let’s find some happiness. We’ll frolic through the fields like hippies and find animals in the clouds. I know your favorite songs and we’ll blast them through your car’s speakers while we sing as loud as our vocal cords allow. Life is too precious to waste time at a pity party.

You stare so deeply into my eyes I feel like you’re seeing too much. I should look away, my mind tells me, but I just can’t. I need to stare back into yours and pursue your depths like you so eagerly pursue mine. I see compassion, honesty, and love right away and I wonder what you’re seeing. Perhaps you’re only focusing on my pupils to see if they dilate when you take my hand. I’m sure they do.

In the morning I wake up clinging to wisps of dreams. Sometimes I can recollect my unconscious memories and think about them for days. They’ll puzzle me, trouble me, delight me. Other times they float away from me like smoke and try as I might, there’s no holding onto them. Some of my dreams are so wonderful that I wake up with a smile. They almost hurt at times because they’ll be better than reality. I think dreams must be a combination of your recent worries and your creative imagination yet I find myself putting a certain amount of trust in them. I’ve done things in real life because my dreams made them seem like good ideas. I guess that just makes me an optimist, planning my life around a dream.

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