Worth.
There’s nothing like worth when you’re at home alone.
There’s nothing like worth when all your dreams dissipate.
But they don’t dissipate in front of you, like a balloon floating away.
They dissipate from your mind like an actual dream–a memory of a feeling that for some reason used to give you meaning.
And now you sit alone on your bed.
The only hope given is that hope of being able to sit on your bed.
To put hope in dreams is to put hope in that which is forgotten upon waking.
Much better to put hope in money–a more tangible expression of worth.
I am awake, but I still lie on this bed.
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