dream a little dream
12:02 p.m.

I dreamed of you.

Strangely, it was not an unhappy dream. In fact, it was my deepest wish, my dearest fantasy: you were here, holding me, kissing me, and telling me how much you'd missed me. That you'd left him long ago but been too afraid to call me. And I thought, you could hurt me again, should I do this?

But I knew inside that you could never break me again, that the walls are too strong now, and I put my arms around you and I was happy.

It was so vivid. It started with me checking your journal online, for the first time in months, and seeing that you'd written you missed me. It was so vivid that even now I'm awake, I'm having difficulty separating reality from dream.

The temptation to really go and read it is so overwhelming that I don't know how I'm sitting here not doing it. But I swore - I swore five months ago that I wouldn't spy on you. That I wouldn't hurt myself by reading your entries, which, in all honesty, I doubt mention me at all. And I've kept to it though it's almost killed me.

Remember the story of Orpheus? I guess that's how I see myself. Walking out of hell, and I must not look back. Maybe you're following. Maybe you aren't. But if I look back, it all falls apart.

And I am stronger than Orpheus.

Gods help me, but I will not go and read your journal.

And I must try to forget how sweet it is to kiss you in my dreams.

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