It's always the things that are just out of reach that keep my mind reeling for another day to think and obsess over those what-ifs. Like happiness and hope. Daydreams laced with pipe bombs or pipe bombs laced with daydreams, I can't really decide. But I've fought this feeling every time it's come around, this shell's crowded enough with paranoia and sun-blistered fantasies masquerading as imagination, and the older I get the easier the win. Now, though, my stomach's bottomed out and I find myself twisted over the ideas of a person I'll never know in a life I'd never want to lead. 

I've been inside my head much too long today. Every day, probably. 

I was supposed to be asleep an hour ago. Am I not already sleepwalking through life?