1.7.18/1.8.18 | 5:42 am
I'm too afraid to sleep.
Yesterday, I woke up with salty sweat sinking down my back, my mouth as dry as the cold wind howling outside.
Your voice was howling in my dream, I swear I could still fucking hear it despite having not spoken to you in over a month.
I chugged water as if my life depended on it in that moment, although there was no immediate danger.
I had just come out of my own personal hell, or one of the various versions my mind enjoys creating.
Sleep is supposed to soothe the soul, but it has become my best enemy.
I could still feel your hand on me.
In me.
Just like real life, in this dream, I couldn't say "no."
I've never wanted to cut off the lower half of my body until then.
Until now.
Yesterday, I woke up with salty sweat sinking down my back, my mouth as dry as the cold wind howling outside.
Your voice was howling in my dream, I swear I could still fucking hear it despite having not spoken to you in over a month.
I chugged water as if my life depended on it in that moment, although there was no immediate danger.
I had just come out of my own personal hell, or one of the various versions my mind enjoys creating.
Sleep is supposed to soothe the soul, but it has become my best enemy.
I could still feel your hand on me.
In me.
Just like real life, in this dream, I couldn't say "no."
I've never wanted to cut off the lower half of my body until then.
Until now.
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