Months of Dreams

As I look back on my life. I’ve always been told that I’m special but the funny thing is, I’m not. I’m not special. My whole life feels like a continuous lie. Abandonment, lies, betrayal at every turn. I almost find solace in negative people. I fall for facades and pretty words. See, that’s the funny thing, when you told your special your whole life, by all the ones that abuse you. How do you equate love then?
Is it the lies? Well, they lie to protect me so its love, right?
Is it the manipulation? Your heart racing with anxiety and fear. But it feels familiar so it must be love right?
Painful, rough, distrusting. Of yourself, Of each other, Of the world. Questioning everything, especially yourself.
A cloud of gray clings to you, Starting as a tinkle. The rain of sorrow washes over you, until your so drenched you can barely move, just opening your eyes in the morning feels like lifting 1,000 lb. weights as you wake to another day of bleakness. No energy to breathe, much less move.
Feelings and words of unworthiness swirl in your mind. The light of day barely reaching your sight. As the war on your spirit intensifies. An ongoing onslaught on the defenses of the mind and the body. With no energy left to fight, you feel your eyes slide close once again. As the far away siren of your alarm sings. You have descended once again to the bright soft colors of your dreams. Why should you awake when your dreams are so comfortable? So safe: controlled. Here, it doesn’t exist. You are weightless. Soaring through the clouds. Waking a distant memory.