This is only a dream. This is only a dream. This is only a dream. This cannot actually be happening. This is not real. You are not awake. This is a nightmare. Wake up, erica. Please, oh god, please wake up. My eyes are rain storms and my heart is tangled somewhere in my esophagus. I stack my legs, tuck my head into my lap. I place my hands to my hair and begin to pull. This is a nightmare. This is not real. But my cheeks are raw and chapped, and every speck of makeup has been washed from my eyes. Tears are racing down my nose, into my mouth, onto the floor and words are spinning around inside my head so violently I cannot produce a coherent thought. This actually is real --- that is when I felt it, and it all happened at once. It was like I got into an emotional car accident. Anguish. I felt tension seep into
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Oh my god. Oh my god. I’m losing him.
He rocks me back and forth, whispering to me, trying his very hardest to comfort me. While he is in my grasp, I try to memorize every brown curly strand of hair on his head. They coil around my fingers as I brush through his scalp. My own hair was somehow always knotted and tangled, but he never minded.
“Shhh, it’s okay, I promise that everything will be okay.”
“Hey, hey, shhh, I love you, I will always love you.”
“I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do.”
And we cry together. When I try to kiss him, he deflects me. I tell him how I feel, he remains silent. He cuts our last moments short; says my parents will be back soon, and he has to leave before they come home. I cling to him, trying to get him to stay. I hold onto him as if he is oxygen and I am dying to breathe. I am desperate. No no no no no no no no no no no no please don’t leave. Stay, I plead. But he does, and shuts the door softly behind him. I watch as he treads through the grass that divides our two houses --- he walks slower than usual. I weep as the boy I am in love with walks into his house and does not come out. I was
Oh my god. Oh my god. I’m losing him.
He rocks me back and forth, whispering to me, trying his very hardest to comfort me. While he is in my grasp, I try to memorize every brown curly strand of hair on his head. They coil around my fingers as I brush through his scalp. My own hair was somehow always knotted and tangled, but he never minded.
“Shhh, it’s okay, I promise that everything will be okay.”
“Hey, hey, shhh, I love you, I will always love you.”
“I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do.”
And we cry together. When I try to kiss him, he deflects me. I tell him how I feel, he remains silent. He cuts our last moments short; says my parents will be back soon, and he has to leave before they come home. I cling to him, trying to get him to stay. I hold onto him as if he is oxygen and I am dying to breathe. I am desperate. No no no no no no no no no no no no please don’t leave. Stay, I plead. But he does, and shuts the door softly behind him. I watch as he treads through the grass that divides our two houses --- he walks slower than usual. I weep as the boy I am in love with walks into his house and does not come out. I was