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I can’t wait to get out of here.

Shaking. Crying. Never ending screaming in my head. It’s back--the feeling I thought I’d forgotten. The feeling I thought I buried a long time ago, along with all the pieces of what I was before. It’s back and it’s consuming me, the hungry earth swallowing me whole. My eyes blacked out with so much darkness. I feel nothing and it kills; the main thought of life guiltily haunting me like a lost soul. The butterflies, words, all the love wouldn’t work---it was too much, it was all too much. I should’ve thought that I would never cease to fight this, that it would always come back and take over me.

Pain? No. There is no pain. There has never been any pain. There was only relief, the feeling that I could breathe again, the feeling that I tried to hold on to ever since this has started. Relief was the only way I could go through with mornings, the only reason I could ever want to see sunsets. It was the only way I could feel, breathe, and get through each day. I'm not sorry. There were scars, and they did nothing but remind me of how good each moment felt, of how the tears that would blur my vision would only somehow make me fool myself that I am strong.

Then there's the constant question. Why? Why is this happening? Why am I dreaming? Why is the world still turning?

All the dreams I had fall back in circles. It was probably the moose that killed me, the rollercoaster that crashed, the black oblivion that I splashed with so many colors and then drowned me away. It must’ve been the teeth I lost, the rabbits I killed, all the running and screaming to no end, or my talk with Death. It was the emptiness of the world every time I try to open my eyes. It was trying to let go of the things that didn't matter. It would be gone--thoughts I waved a way, songs I won't sing, love I dread of having. And the moon will shine brightly, the day would end, and the morning would come after the lullaby is sung. It would be quick, perhaps painless, even, as all the feelings are already gone. Will there be hope? If I can find it. Maybe there would be happiness too, or maybe not, maybe we only fool ourselves and pretend to think we're such. Maybe we could see each other again, in a different world out there, in a distant star. And maybe, wherever it is, we'll end up seeing the same sunset.

So let me wake up.

Let me wake up, let me wake up, let me wake up.

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