One day, she awoke. The world around her was dark. The dreams, that she had only known as reality until now, had very quickly faded. She still remembered the bright colors she had seen, and seeing the black gloom that encased each person in this reality made her sad. For the first time in her life, she felt sorrow, and tears fell from her eyes.
She walked through the dark world, watching the people as they trudged on, eyes cast down, and feet dragging. More tears were shed, and more sadness settled in. She noticed that her fingernails had turned a dull, listless grey.
The trees that she passed were all covered in black. She stopped to press her fingertips against a tree trunk at one point, wondering if they were all dead. There were no leaves, after all, and the trees all looked as if they had been burned.
A surprised gasp left her pale, chapped lips as the tree she had so tenderly touched crumbled and was swept away by the cold wind. Only a pile of charred ashes remained, and even that pile was quickly diminishing. She saw the palms of her hands were covered in soot, and though wiping them against her clothing caused black smears, the black could not be removed from her skin.
Staring down at her hands, she began to move forward again, hoping for something to lift her spirits. The ground beneath her now aching feet was hard and unforgiving concrete. The cracks in it were frequent, and she found herself entranced by the passing lines. As her head tilted farther down to get lost in the pattern, her hair fell, catching her eye. Her lovely, bright, blonde hair was dull, lacking the shine and luster it had before.
Horrified, she forced her head up. The crushing weight of this world fought against her, trying to bring her eyes downward again. Her clothes were no longer blue and green. Instead, they were multiple shades of white and black. Her skin was a sickly white, her hair grey and coarse. With only enough strength left to spill a few tears, she was enveloped in depression and surrounded by her own dark cloud.
The harsh environment and the lack of support from this world's residents had taken its toll. The girl from the colorful dreams no longer existed, and she was only a part of the dark crowd shuffling down the dreary, mist filled streets.
It hurts now.
Your sounds.
Your smells.
Your eyes.
Your memory.
It tears at me. Not a day goes by where I don't wish I hadn't done what I did, said what I'd said.
If I could only prove to you...
But you ended it roughly. There's no going back now. No way at all.
I dream of your touch, your arms around me.
I dream of nothing more than the soft, happy feelings I have when I was around you.
I imagine your smile, and it is beautiful.
I remember your laugh, and it brings me bliss.
I am lost in our dreams, when everything crashes.
You attack me, shouting and even crying, though you never let me see it.
You tell me you hate me.
You tell me you never want to see me again.
Your verbal attacks continue, though the physical ones have stopped.
You walk away from me, and I break.
The pain is overwhelming.
Electricity through my veins.
Needles in my flesh.
Bullets into my brain.
If only it were over so easily.
It's been more than a year now, and I still have a picture of us on my dresser.
It taunts me each time I walk past, and it eats away at my conscience when I lay in bed.
But in that picture...
You're smiling at me.
Some days it starts slow, and the sun is always shining brightly.
Those days I don't hear it at all, and the day is blissfully silent.
Those are the times when my husband is more than excited to come home and see me,
And I'm more than happy enough to not only cook, entertain, and interact with him,
But to also whisper to myself what I am thankful for.
And then some days it happens quickly.
The sky is dark and I awake in pain.
I cry because I'm alone when my dreams fade away,
Because all the things I usually do with a smile suddenly become harsh and cold.
Standing up becomes a challenge,
As does caring about housework,
Or what may be going on around me.
"The atmosphere is different, and that's before I make it home." He says.
Those days not much is said,
Not much is laughed about,
And hugs are forgotten.
The tears fall down as I hear what I know he doesn't.
"You'll never be happy."
"You don't deserve it."
"He's angry at you."
"Your ideas are terrible."
"This will never improve, and neither will you."
The worst ones come when I'm alone, however.
"Where are your friends?
Your husband?
Where is the love you claim to have?"
A promise to myself?
Tomorrow WILL be better.
