Excuse me. 

That romantic idea in the back of your brain... quell it. It's dead in the water already and you're no closer to realizing that fake sense of fulfillment that was on the tip of your supreme conscious. 

Not to bombard you, but I've noticed that I haven't been telling you my dreams. At least, not typing them out for the waves of cyber-eternity to carry out until the EMP's take out every last god damn server holding a good chunk of my thoughts. I should rectify this. But then again, I always forget about you when I have someone other than myself to think about so consistently. 

I'm still trying to figure out if I still talk to you every day or if you're just a piece of my imagination. Only time will tell. 

Sometimes people are more of a disservice to those around them than they are to themselves without even knowing. I'm saying more along the lines of being a shitty person reflects poorly on the awesome people in their life, besmirching their otherwise sterling recommendations. 

I pride myself in having good people around me. I love my friends fiercely. And I can only hope that I'm not the weak link that brings that sort of questioning to anyone's integrity. 

There are those times. And THOSE times.