And I finally understand my dreams.
I'm broken. I can't be fixed.
Five nights ago I had a dream.
Somehow I had a broken/empty heart. My mom discovered I had this broken/empty heart, so she tried to fix it. However, it was only a temporary fix. It was a makeshift fix. So we travelled around to see doctors who could truly fix it. No one could see me. No one could fix me.
We went to a train staton for one final journey to a last doctor, but then on the screens as we waited for a train, John Boyega started singing the national anthem. Some rude teens called him gay.
That last part was some part of me trying to wake myself up and I did. I woke up wondering about that dream.
But now I know that the damage done to me in my childhood and adlthood was just too servere to recover from. There is no amount of therapy or affirmations that can heal me. I'm essentially the living dead... some creature than hangs onto life but isn't really truly alive.
And it's not like I chose for all those to happen to me. I didn't choose to be ugly, mixed, or to have learning disabilities. I didn't. No one chooses shit like that because who would willingly choose the shit that comes with it? The abuse, bullying, miscommunications, etc.
I'm just broken and cursed. Nothing will fix me. The end.
Edit: I'm not 33... I'm actually 32 this year and I feel like shit because I can't even keep track of the time and my age.