I could not find myself yet.
Dreams left me first. They were now blackened by the reality, stifling, and heavily cankered. One side of me still wanted to nurture them; I fell asleep caressing them and I got up loving everything back again… Inevitably, each dawn turned into the day and with the day, each day, I felt the fear. First the fear of losing them, then the fear of losing my sanity.
It was agonizing, but no matter how ceaselessly I lingered in this furious and heinous cycle, I never became ready to let them go. It was the dreams that finally left me; they managed to rip off my weakened grab, walked slowly to freedom, and left me behind, void, and blind to sentiment.
I do not know what was more painful; parting with the only dreams I have had or having no dreams at all?
Fiction bits – II
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