I used to dream of bright shining stars and meteors.
I used to dream of cars rushing dozens of feet below me while I watched perched, albeit unsteadily, atop of some structure.
Now I dream of nothing and it’s bleak and I don’t feel my heart race at the thought of anything.
I had never thought I was an adrenaline junkie, but something enough to make me feel so real and so human, full of weakness and so full of mortality was enough to give my skin goose bumps and my heart to race in my chest – and I think I miss it.
Lately my life feels like a dream and I haven’t been walking on the solid ground. I haven’t felt the earth beneath me and I haven’t felt how big the sky above me is. I have lost touch with the bigger picture and I don’t know how to open my eyes again.
Stuck in this city full of people and I miss the reality of life that I seem to have mixed up with the false daydreams in the magazines, in the news, on the television.
I’ve forgotten how real feels.
And I miss it.