She wakes up from sleep that is not really sleep.



The ache of not quite being herself pulsates through her stomach, her chest, and travels to her temples, and that oh-so-familiar hollow dread presents itself, yet again. Still, this ache isn’t like it used to be. She used to wake up, drenched with sweat, heart pounding, head throbbing, from sleep that was never really sleep. Her first thought was always, where are you? I need you right now. Help make this stop!

The day and night before she always promised herself, this will be the last time. We are so done. You and I are so very done. She wanted to believe it, and she actually did believe it until the next morning when her sheets were damp and her head ached so much, and she reached for it, yet again.

So today she wakes up from sleep that is not really sleep, and she aches, but then she thinks, I don’t need you anymore. I haven’t needed you for years. I can’t believe I don’t need you anymore.

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