I wanted to touch my dreams, but they felt like a star, beautiful to gaze at yet so far away. Like a candy jar that I can’t pull out any of the pieces. Like a book with blank pages and no title. My depression has me on strings, I can never move forward, it’s like a car break. Maybe It’s fear, the panic attacks are like a ghost above my bed choking me. I keep thinking it’s excuses, all in my head, or karma bleeding on me from my past life but as days go by the fire never folds, just violently hugs me while the embers are demons that always get relit. Maybe this is why storytelling, (Korean dramas, pro wrestling, books, and sports) a different reality keeps me waiting for the sunset even if it doesn’t come up today because it places me outside of that