Good Morning?

What the hell is so good about it? Why does everyone keep saying this to me? Good morning! Good afternoon! Good night! Good weekend! Good summer!

Just what exactly is so good about any of it?

I wake up alone every morning wishing I could sleep forever and immediately missing you. After a night of dreaming about you, there really is nothing good about waking up. It's so hard.

I walk through the day with my mask on, pretending to be fine. It is now beginning to wear off though. Some have begun to notice. I am increasingly confronted with inquiries as to how I am getting along. More people seem to detect that something is wrong in my head. I tire of lying to them. I wish no longer to hide behind this façade. It's all coming down around me.

The dreams are coming more frequently and the sensations are increasingly realistic. I wake feeling as though I have been embracing you all night. I literally feel the weight of your body against mine. Im afraid I may actually be going insane.

My heart has been lost for some time. It seems now that my mind is to follow suit. Soon I will be little more than a delusional maniac, undergoing hallucinations. I now have several ticks. My lips pop, my throat jumps up and down, my ears move, my eyes twist about, my wrists lock and release, and I stutter. Each continues to develop daily. I can barely speak in full sentences anymore. My thoughts are increasingly jumbled and I have noticed people struggling to follow me in conversation.

It won't be long until no one remains to tolerate me and with a broken heart and broken mind I become truly alone.

The struggle to justify living any longer will soon be lost.

I'm Not a Poet

"How, indeed, am I", said he,
"to go on loving honestly
When all I need, that which I breathe,
Is found completely within she?"

"The trouble lies within her eyes,
Such splendid visions," so said I,
"that taunt the dreams and sew the seams
Of mem'ries there immortalised."

"But without her, one must concur,"
Said he with fervour, all but sure,
"Hence forth shall I, until I die,
Love none so honestly as her."

The Girl of My Dreams

Because its such an overused phrase, I usually avoid employing it. I think it's typically meant as an abstract concept or a metaphor. In my case however, no more accurate description could be given.

I have been dreaming about you since we met. I continue to dream about you each night (those through which I am fortunate enough to sleep), and each morning I reluctantly awake to a reality of which you are no longer a part.

Last night, we were laying in the grass with other people all around. You reached out your hand and began to squeeze mine. I really felt it. I still feel it. You looked into my eyes and I into yours and without words we exchanged volumes. It was though we hadn't seen each other for some time and were once reunited.

Marie... That name that lives on the tip of my tongue and in the depths of my heart. Marie... I will never know a beauty more true than that of my Marie.