You hold out for this good thing on the horizon. The thing that makes the dry acrid barren wasteland of your life just about worth tolerating. The oasis in the desert that you can see - just off in the distance - and you figure that yes, okay, maybe you are bleeding from dragging yourself over broken stones, and maybe it has been so long since you saw water that every breath feels like inhaling a thousand tiny shards of glass, and maybe it would be such a relief to lay down and die.... but there is an oasis on the horizon and its beautiful - you can see the sparkle where the sunshine hits the water and the tips of green leaves in the distance. It would be funny if it were not so agonisingly, debilitatingly, painful. Because I should know by now. I should KNOW. BY. NOW. That beautiful thing on the horizon is the reflection of a reality I cannot have. It is a glimpse of a world I do not belong to. It is not FOR the likes of me. It is a fantasy that will disintegrate the second I am close enough to touch it. I do not deserve it. Because this wasteland of a life... I created it. It is completely my fault. I polluted it and contaminated it. I am toxic.