White, febrile, searing confusion;
It constantly boils my blood.
The sleepless nights;
tossing and turning and tossing and turning.
I can’t make it stop
because it doesn’t want to stop:
this constant feeling of “did what I lose really matter this much to me
and why do I still feel this way after all this time?”

Every waking second, every dreaming minute, nothing puts my mind at ease with the fact that it’s only me and I’m stuck in the past.
Heh. Stuck in the past. A phrase I’ve told myself over and over that I would never use.
Yet more and more, it makes sense.
I just can’t tell if the past is gone, or, like me, it’s just waiting for something to happen;
waiting for something to come out of the sky and sideswipe both of us right in the face.
Maybe everyone else is just moving on without a second though as to what just happened.
Maybe it’s everyone else, not me.
Either way, I could go for a nice dose of reality.