My head is heavy against this pillow I call my own. Weirdly, it doesn't feel like my own pillow. Too tired to care, but interested as to why my bed feels different, I run my hands across the bed. This doesn't feel right; maybe this isn't my bed. Maybe i'm not who I think I am. I'm not who I know I am. I'm someone else in this dream...
I look down at my hands, shaking with anger. I don't understand why I'm mad.. How could he do this to me! A voice, my voice; screams out. But it's not my voice. How could he destroy the only thing I had left. Love. Something we shared. She starts to cry, and I realize I know who she is. Her name is Brite Eyes, and in this dream, I am her.
I don't understand. He held it softly in his hands before me; the love I gave him. Once in awhile reaching down to kiss it, but slowly pushing his thumbs into it, and breaking it in two. He gave me my half back, at least he had the balls to do that. Yeah, thanks... No matter how much I joke, this sick feeling wont go away. I don't want too... I'll tell myself over and over..
No.
Don't look down.
As I slowly look down, my hair falls beside my face. The light shines on the little blade; the blade that tears holes in my skin on it's own. The blade that tears holes in my family, in my life. I quickly look up. A mirror. I see my bleached hair, and brown eyes. Breathing heavy, my lips are slightly apart. I push my hair behind my ear, and close my eyes.
I wont do it.
The wet under her eyes has dried, leaving flakes of mascara running down her cheeks, her chin, her neck, staining her shirt. How long has she been crying in this dream? I wonder if I can ask her... myself.
He doesn't understand what he's done. No, Brite Eyes, he doesn't, but I do. Don't cry. Everything will be okay.
Then I woke up knowing that she's not okay.
a daily post of my life; enjoy.
