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Fragmented Self who wanders through life like a dreamer and wades through the river of dreams as though it were the only truth left in this world
What You Lose
it is much like High School. I cannot sleep long and when I do, I sleep most through the day. I have not dreamt in a while... which fills me with despair. Before falling to sleep I am engrossed with thoughts. To untangle myself is no easy task.

EDIT: last night I had a dream where there were large possums living under our house, only these possums were like the giant rats from the Princess Bride. I killed one but then another came out. I flipped out and begged my Dad for help. He killed that one and the one that followed it. The dream showed the details of its killing. It showed their dead blood bodies, with their flesh pink and runny with gray tinge to it here and there and their shot gray hairs. Nasty. I can't remember exactly what I killed it with, perhaps a screwdriver. Whatever it was, unpleasantnesssss.

I sent a text message to Dev during my midnight hours last night where I was reading. In truth, I would love to run to her and make good, giving up this folly of mine. I have thought of so many things I wish to do but breaking her heart is not one of them. If I were to see her, to make things right, it would only hurt worse. Sure, it is not my place to protect her but... it is something I still wish to do. I don't protect her from life so I don't consider it overprotective but, I do like to shield her from things I do or have done. I find that pretty reasonable. It is my sin, why should anyone else bear a scar from it.

This sin I cannot protect people from but perhaps I can ease it a little.

[/ sigh] I'm not used to breaking promises like this one. I'm a coward. Every time I try to plan it, I end up stalling. Oh that won't work or I'm not comfortable with that. Though the warmth clings to me, so does the desperation and loss.

As I said in my text, I've become strangely sentimental. I think of my old creations often. I allow them to feel once more and drag them from the shadows to comfort me. I actually play, as a little girl might, with my stuffed animals. I give them love and coo to them comforts. I have them talk to one another. It is a curious sight. It is behind my mask though. I tell no one but myself of these horrible habits. I squander my secrets and instead sell my memories to my friends. They are comfortable enough with that. They ask few questions and are easily distracted.

The darkness grows.





 
 
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