An Unintelligible Lost Hope

730am.

The alarm screeches in my head.

My body tenses; my hand swings on autopilot, hurdling my nightstand through frigid air.

The crash startles away my animal instincts, allowing rationality to take control.

Work.

20 minutes to get ready. It's Monday morning.

I wipe the drool from my five o'clock shadow and rub the darkness from my eyes, bloodshot and blurred.

Countless thoughts race through my mind: I'm still alert in conscious dreams.

... ... Zzz ... ...

I don't think about how my day's going to be, because that will just make it worse.

It's another day I get to live.

Time I have to spend to keep going.

There's other options out there; a barrage of choices flickering in the wind, free falling in slow motions over the waters of time.

And as each day passes I take a breath as one finally touches, contaminating the dream into an unintelligible lost hope.

I sigh as these glimpses capture my heart with the imaginary unimaginable, but to no surprise, none of it will happen the way I imagine it to be.

We can be dreamers, but if that's all we know then what difference does it make, for none of it was ever real?

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