11:11 AM, 8/18/09
11:11 AM. Make a wish, it might come true.
Silently, all I could think about was the dream. No, not the murderous one, where Sean is the murderer. A different dream, one I’ve had many times.
I’m too afraid to write about it because I’m afraid someone will know.
And a part of me wished, at 11:11 AM, that the dream would come true. And another part of me saw Sean as a murderer.
I’ll find myself thinking about it, in the shower, at band, at parties… and the most pathetic thing is, I smile. I become happy.
If most people knew about the dream, if I were to tell anyone, they would laugh. It seems as though nothing I say can be taken seriously.
Though I suppose the wide, toothy smile spread across my face wouldn’t do much to prove my true seriousness.
It doesn’t matter. Only one person has a clue. Only one person listened.
Nothing else could possibly matter more.