I Realize That We All Think We

I'm Totally Not Kidding. Life Is Too Short. This Is All Too Hard To Do To Actually Be Kidding About The Whole Thing.

You've Got The People You Know, Which Are Problematic. Always. They're Rich But They're Also Real People Living Their Lives Alongside You. Then You've Got The People That You Make-up Completely, Who Are Often Missing A Dimension If They Don't Have Some Reference To Real People. So Strangers Exist In This In-between Space, Where In Not Knowing Them, You Are Creating A Fiction For Them, Even In Passing, But At The Same Time, There They Are, With Their Actual Bodies And Their Actual Clothes. It's Totally Enticing.

That Day I Carried The Dream Around Like A Full Glass Of Water, Moving Gracefully So I Would Not Lose Any Of It.

I Really Did Not Feel Okay About Any Of This, And There Was Really Nothing I Could Do About Any Of It.

It Would Require Constant Vigilance To Not Replace Each Person With My Own Fictional Version Of Them.