Freya, I want you. There's no dreams anymore and my heart glows. I love you.

Freya, then you. Red, then blue. I got stuck in negative patterns for so long. The obsessive thoughts became a sort of cloying candy that sticks together easily, gumming up into a ball. My sense of smell is not so good. And I left the candy in the jar for too long. If you leave something alone for too long it will grow in an unexpected way. A dilapidated candy town in my jar. Addicted to the sweet patterns, I grew into a repetitive treasure hunter. The treasure was the idea that my dreams slotted into my life seamlessly. It all became too much. Where did the signal originate? Where did the dream come from? Red, then blue, then green. I was to become a nutritionist. I slackened my duties and he grew in an unexpected way. I want to find him again but I worry my presence will hurt him, and I want to see how he grew but I left the jar at his house.

He had a sense of style. He understood what trauma is. He knew a bit too much. But he acted childishly. Was it because of me? Was it because I was a child?

The graffiti hurt my feelings as a secret public figure. Today I look at it and wonder if I even lived that life at all. Its been two years. I want to introduce all my friends to each other but I worry it will hurt them. I want a bigger life and I want all of us to be friends. We can work together. We can take time and build something together. Will you reject it? Will you accept it?

I didn't even realise that I met the person from my dream a year and a half ago. I thought he was someone else. The dream slotted into reality and the transmitter decided to be kind. The dreams were of destinations and journeys. I took a short cut and became bug-laden. There was no one to pick me up. It is depression when the idea of cleaning becomes overwhelming. The first time I became psychotic my nails were glued to a pen. The second time was this movie that would never end. There was no force that recorded it all. Only the memory remains.

I eat a vegetable and I feel clean. Clean me out. It will set my conscious free. I learned how to let go in the sweat of the city. Overgrown and expensive. The sweet and bright people live here. I can do this for hours and hours. I love that song because it reminds me of the city. My new friend and I watched the landscapes of the city. Me, addicted to sleep and you, addicted to the day. We managed. Your honesty touched me. Thank you for such a great trip.

I pushed through the sleepyhead willpower and found thoughts, half prose half poetry. There's no dialogue, it's just a description of feeling. I write like you did three years ago. A prose-less description of the state of the union. A direct address that made me feel special. I'm sorry I didn't meet you back then. I was a spoiled child but you scared me. I'm at your mercy, I'm not in control of myself anymore. Even though I want control of myself and I want this overwhelming force of another person to be gone. Because I'm scared of you. We got off on the wrong foot and it hurt so so so so so much.