Today I woke up with the feeling,
That it was all a dream.
The people who were in the house.
The life in this place.
The things that happened.

But someone I spoke to at noon,
Who was reminiscing about Saturday,
Reminded me that it was all real.

Sometimes I hate everything -
The kind of hatred that comes from love.

I am the last one to go.

Tomorrow
I'm getting outta here.
It will be better.