“No one knows what’s like to be a bad man/girl, to be a sad man.
Behind blue eyes.
No one knows what’s like to be hated, to be fated to telling only lies.
But my dreams, they are as empty, as my conscious seems to be.”
My music player seems to understand me very well today. I picked the first song, “King of Broadway”, a funny but somewhat self-pitied song, in hope to lighten my mood and after that, the songs went randomly. You know which songs it picked for me? “Behind Blue Eyes”, “Last Words”, “The Boys Are Back”, “Grind” and Vocaloid’s “お爺さんの時計”. Except “The Boys Are Back” which is out of the mood, the rest reflects my feelings pretty accurately. “No one knows what’s like to feel these feelings like I do”. No one does indeed. Whether I’m happy, sad, angry or frustrated, only myself knows. And chews on them like daily meals. Because no one seems to care. Because they easily throw me an angry stare for no obvious reason. What have I done? What have I not done? I play the fool to lighten their mood, to bring them joy. Who’s gonna lift me up when I’m down? None. Only expectations. Only demands. Only criticisms.
My dreams these days become weirder and weirder. For instances, I dreamed about being victimized to cannibalism some nights ago. I dreamed about getting pregnant the night before. I dreamed about staying/ being trapped in bizarre building with a bizarrely small elevator (something proves to me that I’m claustrophobic) and seeing a decapitated head yelling profanities. What are they trying to tell me? That my mind’s a turmoil and I’m drifting nearer and nearer to dementia? Could be.
An interesting note: what if these dreams are my true ‘life’ and my ‘life’ now is no more than an extension of my dreams? Intriguing, right?