hippocampus.

I keep having dreams with you in them. I keep having dreams where I admit that I'm wrong, or where I'm trying to apologize, or that it's the end of the world.
You always seem to be in them. Why?
We don't talk, and we haven't in a long time.

It must just be the time of year.

I think I'm trying to tell myself something that I'm not willing to admit on here.
Something under the surface. Something that isn't physical. Something that has to do with me and what I want, and need, and deserve.

Or maybe dreams really don't mean anything at all, and I'm reading too much into everything. Maybe there isn't a way to turn the abstract pieces into a nice picture. Maybe there isn't a way to unscramble the dialogue and turn it into something deeper and much more important.