Here I am, writing. Trying to regain a little bit of sanity. It’s exactly 1am in the morning and I’m back to that moment of reflection as I stare at my neighbour smoke a cigarette underneath a dim light. Now he’s gone, and he’s turned off that light leaving me in the darkness. My only company is gone. The silence is dangerous, almost as dangerous as my thoughts  but- it’s a reminder that I am truly lost. I haven’t written in so long. The feeling of my fingers gliding over these buttons of words that has nothing to do with a class lecture seems so foreign. It never felt like this before. No, before I knew what I was doing. Or rather what I was writing about. But now it all seems so foreign.

It is safe to say that I’ve lost myself in the midst of chasing a dream. One that I wanted so bad, but as I get closer to that dream, the more I don’t see myself in it. I want to escape. But not escape life, in fact I want to live life. I want to breath again. However, the process of breathing seems forced. Just like waking up at 6am in the morning to chase something once called a dream. I had a vision. Where is it?