Dream Life

This is the sound of the tear of your favorite jeans; literally and not so. I mutter "fuck" into the damp air bitterly, but could not stay angry, for this was not real life. The trumpets of the theme song to Star Wars blare all around me like you imagine the soundtrack of a movie would to the main character, being myself. No one usually expects milk to be curdled before they pour into their oatmeal, I did, but this does not upset me. This is not to say that I am apathetic to all annoyances and grievances, nearly the opposite, but real life is only sometimes, and not lately.