I'm trapped in a dream world, where everything smells like clean laundry, looks like twilight, and sounds like birds singing their goodnights. All I can see is old ladies taking their evening walks, picket signs proclaiming the household's affiliations, and my curls obstructing my right eye. My thoughts are poetry, swirling down into a single point inside my chest. I feel that anxious pull, like my breathing is about to stop, and I pause.
This night would be perfect to one without the current emotional state I have. I want to cry, but I refuse to admit weakness. This is pointless. I cycle through emotions, sometimes feeling like it'll be okay and then there are times like these. Times that make me want to throw up, if only to stop the confusion and the spinning.
I hate him more than humanly possible. Yes, I know I say I love him. And I do. I just… can't stand times like these. He ignores me and acts like he doesn't care, so I withdraw into the whirlwind of my thoughts and soon I begin to believe that I'm completely free of worth. I know it's not true. I know it isn't; yet somehow I start to buy in.
But only during times like these.