I told you I'm a dreamer and then I dropped hints again and again here and there. Repeatedly. Yet, all you can talk about is people People who wronged you or didn't. People in politics, business and bureaucracy basking away in second-had success and delving into second-had failures You talk about boundaries when my head is limitless I suggest you hammer nails around my head and build a fence and see if that might conform me into what you want me to become. Don't tell me about work that is uninspired and safe like docu-men-tation and how you do it for 60 hours a week. It tires me. It tires me how You talk about money Like it can buy culture or class. It tires me when you recite what you hear on one idiot box and scan on another- never pausing to read between the lines Yet, I envy you. I envy you for your depth as well as outwardness towards things, yes, things that I feel nothing towards and your stoicism towards subjects that keep me sane. I envy how effortlessly you stay afloat while I am suffering and struggling I wonder where are your layers? or are you as one dimensional as what meets the eyes? I dont know what am I more afraid of. I dare you, for once- Tell me about your deepest, darkest secrets, fears and fantasies and watch me not flinch. I promise I will not look away I will not blink and hear me out just once - For I am here to find out if you can return the courtesy. Can you for once be real? and not what they are telling you to be. For once, can you tell me when was the last time you felt alive.