The Diary of a Fallen Girl

dreams

Sometimes, I fear the blanket of unconsciousness. When covered, all I dream of is a projection of my own wants, my own fantasies. I find myself loving versions of people that don't even exist in the real world anymore. It's a sad thought, though. How hard is it to crave a memory that's no longer viable?

I dream of him often. It's a conscious dream, though. I know it's not real, but it's oddly comforting anyways. He tells me often that it'll hurt when I wake, so I prepare myself for the inevitable pain. But when he's there, it leaves me speechless. His skin feels so real again, and our laughs mingle in the air and lace our words like they once did. It's almost as if he is beside me once more.

But again, I remind myself,

Dreams are only dreams.