People would be better off if they never thought about what could be, because inevitably that “could be” turns into “could have been”, and no matter what lies ahead, you’re stuck looking back instead.

Fire flakes coaxing an aura of comfort, I lay my head down in her lap and she doesn’t flinch. My days are warm, and life has become lighter since she has come home. I lace my fingers into hers and give them a gentle squeeze. I’m waiting for a change in pressure; her approval. 

I’m the only one holding on.

I can’t force myself to lift my head. I turn slightly, trying to catch her eyes, but they aren’t watching me. Whatever it is she can see, I can’t.

I’m in her arms, on the fringes of her consciousness, and nowhere near her heart.

So, even in my dreams, I still can’t make her love me..

Her warmth is a curse. I want to run, but where can I go? It’s December, Ohio, 2AM on Christmas day. It’s my 5th Christmas alone. I spent the last 4 in a drug induced fever, choking back my worst thoughts with a rush of nausea, burning my throat, burying my hopes.

This year I’ve given up fighting it, and she came back to me in my dreams, as I knew she would. 

And it hurts, like I knew it would.

And I still prefer these dreams over reality, like I knew I would..

Tomorrow I plan to get back on schedule, downing another bottle of alcohol and pills, so I can leave her alone to enjoy the holidays without me. I promise, by this time tomorrow I’ll be back to my usual blackouts and she’ll be free from my dreams.

But I’m tired.

Very, very tired.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing, to keep on dreaming. 

Maybe I’ve suffered enough. 

Maybe it’s okay to find her in one more dream, just one more dream long enough for me to apologize and say goodbye. 

Maybe then, in that moment, she’ll finally see me, and I can stop pretending things will be better once I wake up..

And maybe I’ll finally accept myself for what I am, and I can get some real sleep..