they pulled me half-alive out of the sea.

only a fuck up would prefer an alternate reality, basically an illusion, to a real possibility. truth is: i really miss having you around. of course i don't know you, although i miss the 'you' that i created in my mind for months and despite my effort to disconnect this unachievable desire from our concrete existence, i still wish you'd cross my dreams or that we meet in some unexpected place. truth is: we were two dancers and i miss our epic waltz.

how much i miss this illusion that kept me so close to reality. and well, it looks like that's just how fucked up i am.