If your dreams don't scare you, they're not big enough. (Post #100)

 

You're eating a lot more than last summer.

(Last summer, I didn't eat at all.)

You're constantly chewing something.

(I draw my daily calorie limit at 500.)

Looks like you're gaining weight.

(I've lost almost 7 pounds since I got home...two weeks ago.)

 

 He has no idea about what I'm going through.

The saddest thing is that I still have the need to justify to myself that what he says couldn't be more out of touch with reality (even if I know he's wrong). When I tell him, he says he's my father, not my friend.

Subconsciousness is a strange thing.

 

Never knew that trying to persuade the mind to let go can ache this much. I keep telling myself what we had wasn't meant to last, but try to explain that to a bruised heart. 

And meanwhile, it hurts. 

It physically hurts.

I dreamt of him last night, yearning for a closure. It didn't come. Seemed so real that the sensation of closeness and familiarity woke me. I greeted the morning with the sight of street lights switching off, one by one, as the sun rose.

I keep trying, yet keep getting better at failing.

 

My life is falling apart.

Running away seems like the only plausible solution.

But I can't, I...can't. It's what I've been doing for the past five years.

I stopped eating again in a desperate attempt to re-assemble 

the puzzle of inner peace I had (and lost).

The parents won't notice. They never have;

they're too busy criticizing who I've become.

I don't blame them, yet sometimes wish they knew.

Maybe they'd treat me differently.