When it rains, it pours.

The strange, bizarre story of my life. Like my perpetual moodswings (which apparently, are definitive of someone whose zodiac sign is Cancer), my life is always rosy one minute, and absolutely dismal in the next.

It's difficult to find balance. So much for my birthday being "Pi Approximation Day".

With regards to that, you learn something new everyday: apparently, the 22nd of July (22/7) is Pi Approximation Day, for the simple reason that 22/7 is a popularly used approximation of Pi. No wonder I've always felt like there was something I should've realised everytime I write my birthdate.

But I digress.

Whenever anything goes wrong in my life, everything that goes wrong happens at the same time.

I think I need time to find... something. I'm not sure what it is. I've been told that I need time to something which makes me happy, and not just spend all my time running around and doing stuff which just fills up all the space in my life.

But I don't know what makes me happy.

Writing used to make me happy, but my muses have been asleep a long, long time, because I no longer have the time to dream, and all the vestiges of dreamland that cling to my waking eyes in the mornings are dreams of endings and breakings awash in a rain of acid tears.

I dream of disappearing faces; I dream of arms around my shoulders that I can't really feel; I dream of empty corridors; I dream of quiet park benches where I sit alone.

I dream of broken glasses.

I dream of watching people inside a bubble.

I dream of cars passing clean through me as I walk across a wide open road.

I dream of phones ringing without anyone to answer them.

And there's that dream which I've had for the longest time, that dream of sleeping and never waking.

Except.. that dream is the only one which lingers without any visual memory. And perhaps it makes sense; the absence of vision for eyes that have lost a purpose to open for.