i usually hate poetry except for some cases like this...

of love and other demons

i worry that i am stretching myself too thinly, and yet it's my own desires that put me in such a difficult situation. funny as it may sound, but the very dreams i have for myself have become the bane of my existence. i am now forced to do my phd applications as i finish my thesis at the same time. moreover, i am compelled to leave my new found friends as what i did to my long-time comrads when i embarked on this quest for higher learning. then, i am required to make a vow of poverty as i start to adjust to the low-paying profession of teaching.

i wonder if it's the same for other people. are our dreams the same as our nightmares?