I sipped traces of your reality from my tea today. I hated it. My amaretto was all spoiled by those flying hours when you brough me to the surface. I hated it.

I hate to wear this pijama (green with teddy bears, you said), as much as I hate to wear these eyes in front of the mirror, naïvely waiting for virtual images to become visible. I hate to be this passionate about all kinds of stuff, to the point of nauseating myself with frustration and denying my wishes to be found and rescued.

I hate this dullness. I hate to see my life passing by in front of me, and to have these fears still questioning everyting, when there is nothing to be questioned about. There are no answers.