Beddy Bye Time

Left in the Sheets

It was times like these when lying in bed for the rest of my life seemed like a good idea. When staring at the ceiling wondering why, with tears slowing being pushed from the corner of my eyes seemed like something like a preferable alternative.

Exactly what is it that I really should get up for? They are all gone. All of them. I keep having dreams of them leaving again and again in different, cruel ways. Like they are getting in my dreams to spite me.

They'd side with my enemies, find someone better, or realize how pathetic I actually am.

I suppose dreaming of them repeating it would be enough to get me out of bed, but it's not. Since no matter what the real reason I'm sailing through life on my own again it happened.
People's promises are never kept. You'd think I'd learn that by now.

I tossed and turned in the sheets that smelled of the night before and regret. Regret that I kept falling for people and what they say. Regret that I, again, didn't do anything to stop them.

My eyes closed again, trying to fall back to sleep into some sort of false reality, whether it made me wake up in tears again. Anything would be better than being forced to think out reality. The future, past, and present all was just a blur of the same, I knew what was coming and I always will. Waking up with “should've”s, “could've”s, and “would've”s with condemnation tangled in the comforter. Dreams, though...they differ, even slightly, even if it's something that could never happen at least it differs from reality.

It was saddening that the pillow was the last comfort I had but at least I had one. The white fluff of a rectangle was the only thing cradling my aching head. It was the only thing that was ever willing to. I should be more thankful for it I suppose, but if you ask me, geese feathers can never really replace the care.

If you excuse me now, crying makes me very tired. And I would like to sleep.
♠ ♠ ♠
Comments? Critique? Thank you for reading.