Most of my dreams are set in childhood, between 10-15. Sometimes it’s horrible. But sometimes it feels great, and I don’t want to wake up. I wasn’t happy back then, but I still had hope. I still felt alive. Things still seemed meaningful. I still felt connected to others. I was still part of society.
I want to go back so badly. Tear up the laws of space and time. For a chance to do it differently. To do it right. Avoid what I’ve become.
I’m left with the feeling that I have to do something. Change something. To escape this reality. Break through to the alternate world. But I don’t know what or how. The reasons why I’m screwed remain the same.