Not Awake.

There’s a moment, a single moment every day when my alarm goes off and I’m not fully conscious, in that moment I am free from both dreams and reality, and that moment is my favourite part of every day. In my dreams I try to avoid him by taking triple the dose of sleeping pills, hoping that will provide me with some refuge from the thoughts that plague me in my waking hours. My hopes on this were shattered, night after night for every night since it happened. Sleeping pills or not, sleep still eludes me for the most part, and when I fall into a faux slumber my dreams are haunted by him once again.
In my waking hours, I try to have some control over the thoughts, over my thoughts. I try not to think about his smile or try imagining the way his laugh sounds when I tell a really bad joke or do something dumb. I try to not think about the warmth of his bed and the way he’d hold me as if I were the very thing that made waking up worth it. I try to listen to all the songs; I try to not let myself be reminded of every car ride, every bad joke and every smile. I try to find things that won’t remind me of him. And yet, here I am, still not having found that magical thing.