mon amour
# Updated final paragraph to quote you. Might come back again if / when I have time and feel like it to write more. - 22/11
I started writing this one on the 23rd, and then for reasons that probably involve my life and its events in some way, abandoned it right after. Going off of the timestamp, I think I was just overwhelmed to the point where I went to sleep. Yes, I sometimes sleep by 10 so I can get some rest.
...except I never can. I can't remember the last time I actually slept through the night, uninterrupted, without waking up the next morning and feeling fatigued. I have horrendous dreams, which for some reason always involve violence against me. I wake up, exasperated at 1 AM, hoping to discuss what just happened with someone so I may feel a little relieved. But that never happens, because as I scroll past the 142 contacts on my phone (which includes you too, mon amour), I realise that I can't quite reach out to any of these people and speak to them about me.
I don't fault them for it. It is human nature to want to speak about yourself; we love the attention and validation that comes from these conversations - but for once, I'd like for someone to pay attention to me. I don't like having to always initiate these conversations. Sometimes I like being asked how are you and have people mean it, too.
So I scroll my contacts, shake my head for being stupid, sigh because I can't reach out to you even though I'd like to, and then go back to sleep when it is finally possible for me to. It takes quite a bit of effort, because I'm often scared of what awaits me in those dreams, but eventually, I doze off and get through another tumultuous night.
Did you know, mon amour? When I do manage to fall back asleep, I end up dreaming of you more often than not. It happened for 3 weeks in a row, and then it stopped periodically, only to pick up again. Sometimes I see you multiple times in one night. I wake up every morning, not with a sharp pain across my heart, but a heavy weight on my chest that makes breathing difficult. But the show must go on, so I carry it with me wherever I go, praying for the strength to get through yet another day.
It's funny, because even in my dreams, I can never get a hold of you. You're always on the run, away, so, so far away from me. The last time I saw you, I almost caught up with you but you were always so quick to leave. As it would turn out, the dream version of you isn't very different from the real you.
Are you proud of me for remembering you so well?
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Allowing you into my life was one thing, but allowing you into my space was a huge misstep on my part. If I knew how persistent these memories were going to be, I'd have closed myself off completely the first day I started getting to know you. Wherever I look now, I am haunted by the ghost of you. And when I try to go to sleep, I long for your presence next to me, and to be held like that again. I don't feel safe in my own space. Do you know how cruel that feeling is?
I've been meaning to change the layout of my room just so I can reclaim my space, but a part of me wants to preserve it so I can hold on for as long as possible. Rationally, on a conscious level, I don't want anything to do with you. I want to erase and delete and expel every last thought, memory, emotion - anything that ties me back to you or would remind me of you. But our lives are unfortunately inextricably linked, and no matter how hard I try to get away, I can't. I'm not sure I even want to.
And even if I managed to get rid of all these external ties, how would I get rid of myself? After all, my body still carries memories of you. I can't wash them away. Believe me, I've tried.
Every time I walk to my apartment, I look back in the hopes that maybe I'll see you. Sometimes I stand in the same spot I stood in that night, and I can almost visualise you walking towards me again. And every time a car speeds on the road, for a second I think it's you, even though it isn't.
And in those moments, I wonder if I cross your mind at all. If you mistake other people for me. If you do or see something, and think to yourself, "Damn, I wish I could've shared this with her." I don't think you do. I don't think you're fazed at all.
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But if you come across this, mon amour, think you can come and rescue me? I'd just like to know you again. "Extend the intersect of [our lives] for a little bit without fucking up our future paths", for however long is possible. I'd wage a war against the tide of time itself to do that. I'd steal whatever little moments I could if that meant being able to spend a little longer in a world where consequences don't matter. I don't like how things ended and how we left it. I'm tired of being mature and reasonable; I'd very much like to prioritise my own desires and do what makes me happy now.
To hell with the consequences. To hell with what you think. I want you.
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