Dreaming about you is the fucking worst. It would be one thing if they were big, dramatic, climactic dreams about love and sex and confessions, but they never are. They're just basic interactions, casual conversations, and they feel so real it hurts the whole next day. It reflects my deepest desire, and that's what is so sad and so desperate. I just want the privilege of witnessing your existence. I don't need you to love me, but goddamn I want to know what you're thinking, what you're reading, what you're writing, what you're listening to. I want to bicker with you, I want to laugh with you. I crave this surface interaction in a way that I could never tell you. There's no casual way to say, "I desperately need you to exist in my vicinity."