Dear subconscious,


Okay, that's it. You're dead. You are so dead.

Two nights in a row? Really? Couldn't you have waited for a week, or a day, at least? You're doing this to spite me, aren't you? You insufferable git.

That's not even the worst of it.

I'm doing my best here to move on to another phase in my life and here you are, reminding me of things that I don't want to think about but I am now forced to think of because you fucking decided it would be such a good idea to make them appear in my dreams.

And now I am confused because I'm not sure if I'm still supposed to think about it because I really don't want to be thinking about it because I don't care. Anymore. I don't care anymore, okay?

And oh god, you are so fired. I'm getting another Jiminy Cricket.