Nightmare

Mya dreams of Alex

Memories flashed before me:

I remembered his smile towards me. The way his eyes would analyze my expression, only focused on me.

I remembered us painting my room. The way my family adored him after they met him that same week. The way he’d dropped everything to be with me.

I remembered how he held me. Our very first kiss at PhaZe during a Sweet 16. The first week we were together. How he’d bail on his friends to be with me every day for lunch.

The risks we took in the pool hall on Fridays after school. The day he got his license. The few times we did it in his car. The time we ate Burger King Hersey’s pies afterward. The way we’d hit about it to each other all the time.

The way he’d constantly keep his arms around me to insure I don’t pass-out like I would tend to do due to a condition I have. The way he’d rush to me if I was seen crying or sick.

The way we’d play mind games to make the other horny before a class. The fact he’d walk me to class every day. The fun times with his triplet brother, Matt, and his girlfriend.

He was literally my whole world. I started dropping down a dark, endless hole. I shocked awake. My cheeks were soaked in tears. My eyes were sore. My nose was so stuffed up I couldn’t breathe.

I knew what my reality was, but it seems like it wouldn’t stop haunting me. My dreams were becoming only memories. Week after week, it got worse. No matter what I did, I couldn’t stop them from coming.

I napped here and there, but never long enough to dream.

I was never around anyone long enough to notice. Either that or no one cared to. May I asked for it.

I’m not sure what to do anymore. I want to go to therapy, but there was no way I could. I didn’t even have friends to help me out anymore.

My friends were now at different schools. I was out of contact with my cousin, Noah. I have no one. I was stuck, half venting to Megan, and leaving the pain in me.

*    *    *

Megan continued to ask me questions about what different Alex-moves meant, every weekend. It became routine to dread the weekend for that reason. She never knew how much it hurt me to have those memories playing in front of me. She’d probably never understand why I’d purposely hurt myself for someone who dumped me. But, that’s love. You do stupid stuff for it.

I was a woman possessed by Cupid. Cursed baby.

I saw Alex weekly. I wasn’t sure why he looked at me the way he did. He used to look at me with passion, then a face in the hall, now an unreadable expression. I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t read it. I avoided his look after not being able to figure out what his look meant. If it was a good look, I’d know it. I think . . . I’m lost . . .