I had a dream that you were just a figment of my imagination, and i was in my head and you were there, that’s where you live, and the guy who files and sorts all the things in my head. And he was like, “here, this guy isn’t real and just looking at him makes you cry. So let’s push him out” and he starts pushing you out but at that moment I scream and i’m pretty sure it was real and loud, and i feel hot and cold and sick and jittery, and so I smash my file man with my fist and i kill him. I didn’t mean to. He was going to push you out of my head. But now there’s no one to sort my thoughts so I fill all the spaces with things that reminds me of you. Stupid things, so many arbitrary little things, clutter. And ugly things, there’s no filter or restraint on where my mind wanders. I’m running out of room to put things. I pack it into the vents and they’re getting clogged. I don’t know what will happen when it’s all full, what will happen to me, to you. I just hope I’m not trapping you there

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