Another day with grandmother.

Another morning peaking out my window to see if she's arrived yet. Another morning carefully walking tightrope between idle small-talk and serious questions about the future and my supposed lack of ambition. Only one day left before she'll try and wrangle me out to go look for work, and I still hate what I see in the mirror.

I'm not sure if my relunctance is truly based on my displeasurable appearance or my chronic procrastination. Likely both. What I definitely know is, if I saw an attractive girl and I was comfortable in my own skin, nothing would stop me from flirting with her in some way, even if the chances of rejection were high. Not the way I am now. And what I'm pretty sure of is, I'm not so out-of-shape that I'd be a poor worker, so with a shave and a haircut for me I doubt I'd have a problem going for some job interview if it were not for my procrastination. So I suppose they are mutually exclusive.

Last night I had quite an interesting dream. My mother gave birth to an undeveloped fetus, and then handed it to me. I proceeded to insert in my asshole and before I knew it I could feel it's (very strong) heartbeat in my stomach. Quite an epic dream it was, as plenty of time passed with me walking around, going from place to place, with this extra heartbeat inside of me. I don't remember getting bigger, just that thump, thump, thump. And then at the end I went to the mall with a friend, and when we left, he asked where the baby was, and I realized that extra heartbeat was no longer inside of me. We searched the mall in vain, and left. For some reason there was a epilogue with baby and a teen fighting on an escalator, the baby being thrown on the descending steps, and then mangled in some way when the escalator reached the bottom. Thankfully, my mind's eye cut away.

I was understandably freaked out when I awoke. And I was pissed, because I have so few dreams that I remember fondly. These dreams mostly all involve a girl from my past, whom I see no more, and spending time with her. Usually they are much more flirtatious than they ever were in reality. Like Therese. A couple of weeks ago she made an appearance in my slumber-cinema, smiling in my company more often than I ever remember her doing so before. As if she actually enjoyed being with me rather than finding it an obligation to not crush this poor boy's heart even more.

I woke up and realized that all I have are these memories and the few dreams I am allowed. I can edit them to my liking, imagining a false truth about a relationship that never was every night as I try to get to sleep. Imagining myself effortlessly pleasing these beautiful girls who would never ever thinking of breaking my heart because I courted them so perfectly. Deluding myself.

Or I can imagine a future date where I run into them serendipitously, and they are taken aback by how much I've changed, what a better specimen of the XY chromosone I am, and they have no choice but to fall in love with the boy that years ago they either rejected or just ignored. The difference between that and the past is that these hopes may come true. May. As in very unlikely, but it's always possible. But then I remember how useless planning was in the past, when nothing ever went according to plan, and yet I kept hoping it would. All the while these other assholes kept spouting shit like You can't plan anything. Fuck that shit, even though it's true. I'll probably never even see those girls again.

More insanity to come...