297. Look and see the sky turn red, like blood it covers over me.

I seldom have anymore dreams. I have nightmares, waking up to nothing but the beat of my heart drumming in my ears, the cold sweat that dampens my pillow, the bitter unsettling feeling that chills me to the bone. I wake up knowing that I know nothing. I don't remember what I've dreamt about, I don't remember falling into a dark abyss, I don't remember being eaten alive, I don't remember drowning in mud, or watching myself wrench my bloodied heart from my chest, or recalling anything that would make me feel this way.

I just wake up, knowing that when sleep comes, the same nightmares will run back into my mind, and replay over and over, seemingly endless till the crack of light sifts through my blinds, till sunlight touches my lids and kiss them awake. I feel like I haven't slept in days, like the crushing weight of my eyelids would send me into another nightmare. I wake up, and it's like I'm more tired then ever. I can't sleep, I don't want to. Sleep doesn't come like it used to, like slow calling winds that wrap themselves around me. Now it's like I'm trapped in a tornardo that I can't seem to escape.

And I don't want to admit it, and I can't admit it to anyone, but.

It's all about you. Everything in my nightmare is about you, but I don't know what it is I dream about. You instill fear into me, rush into my lungs like a blades, slice me up into little insignificant pieces. I'm confured, you make me confused, swirling in my thoughts. I wish I had that kind of courage, that ruthless manor with no care in the world. But I can't let myself break, can't let myself fall into pieces, can't let myself go again. I'm not like that anymore.

I'm scared, everytime I think of telling you.

I'm scared of what you'd say, how you'd respond. I don't know if you'd hold me, or push me away. I don't know if you'd feel the same way, or tear this fragile thin line of friendship into pieces. Fear is such a tragic, sadistic thing.

Sometimes I do think the chance is too long gone, that I've already done it, fucked the entire thing up without even knowing.

I want you to know that you live in my head, and fly and linger on my every passing thought. I want you to know that I do imagine us holding hands under the covers, or sing until we're both breathless. I want you to know that your ego is the size of my butt, and that you are annoying as hell. I want you to know that I think of you a lot, and I miss the times where everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.

But you don't know anything.

And I think it's best we keep it that way, because.

You mean more to me than the world would ever know.