I talk to my therapist about you

Succumb

My episode of self hatred faded, as I began to feel lethargic. I had let myself slide under the heavy duvet to succumb to the safe haven of my sleep.
I could escape reality in my dreams. Experience things I cannot in my real life.
My eyelids slowly became heavy, as though weighed down by boulders. I found myself finally entering the realm of dreams.
I was underwater. Surrounded by gently pushing waves, urging me forward gracefully towards a silhouette of a man. My form softly floated towards him, only to realise he was my one last hope. Tyler.
His cool skin wrapped around me in a tight embrace, and I felt his face come closer to my ear, and through sweet bubbles he whispered "I cannot love you."
My body lay back, sinking to the sandy bottom of the lake. My eyes darted up to question his statement.
"Tyler..?" I spoke in a hushed manner, only to be muted by the clear water.
"You're a burden. You depress me."
Tyler bluntly stated, emotionless.
He pivoted slowly and began to smoothly walk away with complete ease, leaving me helpless and alone to drown by myself.
Alone. Alone. Alone.
Drowning, in my mind.

I awoke after 9 long hours of sleep. It was 7.
I had drifted off to sleep through tears, I had figured after poking at my damp pillow. My hand lurched for my phone, dreading the happening with Tyler was real.
"Morning baby." The first notification read. Received 3 minutes ago.
Looks like he still was managing to put up with me. I wrapped my icily cold fingers around the screen and swiped open my mobile.
My fingers tapped away at the screen to type the reply.
T: Morning baby
B: Morning
Tyler is typing...
T: How did you sleep?
B: Fine. You?
Tyler is typing...
T: I didn't sleep.
Tyler is typing...
T: How fast can you get here?
B: omw

Without planning, I pounced out of bed, pulling the dusty pink throw back over the top of my duvet to keep it looking neat.
The spontanious action had me in a dizzy whirlwind, leaving me perched on the edge of my bed, device in hand.
I threw my phone on my bed, letting it bounce upon impact as I swung open the wardrobe door to retrieve an old pair of faded black skinny jeans and a long-sleeve drawstring hoodie.
These were my usual go to clothes, as they concealed the secrets and scars of my demons,
I pulled the hoodie over my head, and struggled to fit the jeans over my thighs, feeling extremely unhygenic not yet having a shower.
I yanked my phone from its pale blue charger cable and stormed downstairs, ignoring the fact that my mum was sat on the sofa staring at the ground, hands wrapped around her full cup of steaming hot tea,
I sighed as I opened the door, slamming it upon exit.
I knew something was wrong.