Sometimes reality just plain stinks. For a bit I could dream of it, hold it as a means to try to excel. I would create so many scenarios, wonderful and full of freedom. Of course I knew that reality would come back and take hold, but there was a secret part of me that held onto hope. It does now in a strange way but it is a bittersweet sort of hope. One that everyday feels more and more like an illusion and all of those things I thought I saw were not colored the way I believed them to be. The unexpected part is the sadness and pain of it. I hadn't expected it to hurt quite as much as it does. There is something to the loss of it that marks the end of some possibility that is just not easy to let go of. I know, in the hours with nothing that it is my own little illusion and it is not shared. The disappointment of the inevitable has broken my self-esteem. I wish I were so many other things (thinner, prettier, smarter, more able to be worth all of the risks I was willing to take)...So in that sense bloggers I have lost my desire to say anything here. I have nothing more to add other then I hate the real tonight, I want so badly to dream again even though it is a reckless course. It was the eyes and the hands, magnificent, but I accept that I will remain silent on the edges with the hope I hold failing me a bit more each day. My heart furiously rebels.