Dreams are my sanctuary.

I feel so cut off from the real world lately. Everything is so surreal. I don't enjoy anything. Everything gets on my nerves. I get comfort from fictional characters. It doesn't make a difference whether through a book or a movie. And I live with them in my dreams, making my own stories to fit their lives. I listen to certain singers like they are singing only for me, because their lyrics describe exactly my thoughts.

Crazy, huh? I know.

But somehow it makes me feel happy. Or happier than I am at the moment. When I get old and senile I wish I would have the same dreams I am having now. Although. They are getting worse after every night. Not ending happily. Mostly I wake up exhausted and dazed. I feel like I'm losing that comfort also. What's wrong with me? Is the real world so bad that I can't put myself in it? Why won't I just get out of my home to meet my friends (If I have any of them left anymore)? I crave for loneliness. I think my job is to blame. After communicating with people all day long I just want peace. Sometimes even peace from myself. So I read. And watch movies. Quite depressing.