Fusion.

12.28 am.

[I'm probably going to drive myself to whole new level of insanity soon.
Over something so outwardly foolish.
Gah.]

I don't want you to be a figment of my imagination.
Something else I built up in my head to crash and burn.

I can't think of an end.
I can't even think of the beginning.

I'm stuck somewhere in between reality and fantasy.
And I don't know which way to walk.
What if it's not solid ground?
What if I drown?
What if you do?

What if you drown in a chasm of my own futile expectations?

It looms over me like a soundless, still thundering sky.

What's real?
What's not?

Are they separate?

Do they come together in a mute fusion of sightless melody?

I don't want this to crash and burn.

Please don't be a fantastical figment of my own worthless imagination.


[Sigh. See what I mean?]