felt another piece of his heart slip away. There she was, the most beautiful, wonderful, intriguing woman he had ever met, reduced to a sobbing mass of tangled limbs. He was anything but disgusted. To him, even in this state, she was still beautiful—she still had his heart. But to go to her… he didn’t know if he could. He wanted nothing more than to hold her so tight that she would almost be a part of him, to kiss her temples, to hold her shaking hands in his. He also knew that if he did that, if he pulled her to him, the pain of letting her go again would destroy not only him, but her as well.
He had already done enough damage to her soul. He had already ripped her heart and mind to shreds and left her to bleed alone. He was already out of her life.
And so, he took one last, longing look at the only person who ever made him whole, and left her there to fight on her own. For he could no longer fight the monsters for her. A single tear slid down his cheek as he quietly opened the door, the only visible testament to the wild storm raging inside him.
Through blurred vision she watched him leave, her heart screaming at her to call him back. But with one last gut-wrenching sigh, she quieted her heart, knowing full well that to have him back here would only extend her pain. Closing her eyes, she rested her quaking limbs, and let the jets of water numb her to sleep.
There, she let go, at least for a little while, and fell asleep in a cloud of mist, praying that one day she could find her spirit again…
My eyes slowly opened, my vision still blurry from the tears I had shed in my sleep. The pillow underneath me was damp with cooling sweat, and I struggled as my mind tried to recover from the heart-wrenching dream and settle itself back into reality.
For two nights now, I had been having the same dream and waking in the same way, covered in sweat and tears. I never saw the faces in this dream, but I felt their emotions as if they were my own. Soon, I knew the dream would dissipate from my thoughts completely, floating out of my mind like a cobweb ripped free from its shadowed corner and caught in the wind. I could never hold onto it for long. As soon as my eyes opened, the scene, so devastatingly clear as I watched it unfold in my sleep, would blur, the mist of that poor woman’s heartbreak obscuring my memory and preventing me from remembering any further.
I sat up, scrubbing the sleep from my eyes probably harder than I should have.
Frustration was beginning to overtake my initial feelings of panic that had begun on Friday night. It was now Sunday morning, and I was no closer to figuring out what was going on with me than I was two days ago.
I knew that I should probably book an appointment with a shrink as soon as possible, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t begin that downward spiral that I saw my mother go through, right up until the very end when she gave up. That wasn’t going to be me. They would throw medications at me, change me, turn me into a zombie. I would be diagnosed with something best suited to my symptoms, each diagnosis differing with each specialist I went to. It would be a never-ending loop; a process that I had witnessed before and refused to ever be part of again.
I would fight this. Whatever was going on with me, I would fight it. I would not give up like my mother. I would not get into my car and drive over a bridge in an effort to permanently stop my suffering.
Grabbing the glass of water on my nightstand, I finished it in one gulp. I was getting thirstier and hungrier with every hour that passed, and I especially felt it in the mornings when I woke up, my mouth dry and parched, my tongue thick and sticky. The rumbling in my stomach would begin almost immediately, pleading with me to feed it. I tried everything from junk food to salads to protein shakes, but nothing was working. However, I was always a firm believer in mind over matter, so by sheer determination I was becoming
He had already done enough damage to her soul. He had already ripped her heart and mind to shreds and left her to bleed alone. He was already out of her life.
And so, he took one last, longing look at the only person who ever made him whole, and left her there to fight on her own. For he could no longer fight the monsters for her. A single tear slid down his cheek as he quietly opened the door, the only visible testament to the wild storm raging inside him.
Through blurred vision she watched him leave, her heart screaming at her to call him back. But with one last gut-wrenching sigh, she quieted her heart, knowing full well that to have him back here would only extend her pain. Closing her eyes, she rested her quaking limbs, and let the jets of water numb her to sleep.
There, she let go, at least for a little while, and fell asleep in a cloud of mist, praying that one day she could find her spirit again…
My eyes slowly opened, my vision still blurry from the tears I had shed in my sleep. The pillow underneath me was damp with cooling sweat, and I struggled as my mind tried to recover from the heart-wrenching dream and settle itself back into reality.
For two nights now, I had been having the same dream and waking in the same way, covered in sweat and tears. I never saw the faces in this dream, but I felt their emotions as if they were my own. Soon, I knew the dream would dissipate from my thoughts completely, floating out of my mind like a cobweb ripped free from its shadowed corner and caught in the wind. I could never hold onto it for long. As soon as my eyes opened, the scene, so devastatingly clear as I watched it unfold in my sleep, would blur, the mist of that poor woman’s heartbreak obscuring my memory and preventing me from remembering any further.
I sat up, scrubbing the sleep from my eyes probably harder than I should have.
Frustration was beginning to overtake my initial feelings of panic that had begun on Friday night. It was now Sunday morning, and I was no closer to figuring out what was going on with me than I was two days ago.
I knew that I should probably book an appointment with a shrink as soon as possible, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t begin that downward spiral that I saw my mother go through, right up until the very end when she gave up. That wasn’t going to be me. They would throw medications at me, change me, turn me into a zombie. I would be diagnosed with something best suited to my symptoms, each diagnosis differing with each specialist I went to. It would be a never-ending loop; a process that I had witnessed before and refused to ever be part of again.
I would fight this. Whatever was going on with me, I would fight it. I would not give up like my mother. I would not get into my car and drive over a bridge in an effort to permanently stop my suffering.
Grabbing the glass of water on my nightstand, I finished it in one gulp. I was getting thirstier and hungrier with every hour that passed, and I especially felt it in the mornings when I woke up, my mouth dry and parched, my tongue thick and sticky. The rumbling in my stomach would begin almost immediately, pleading with me to feed it. I tried everything from junk food to salads to protein shakes, but nothing was working. However, I was always a firm believer in mind over matter, so by sheer determination I was becoming
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