Fevers of the Sleepless by Afrah Bari

Twisting and turning is all I seem to be doing lately.  Grabbing at the sheets, so they replace the warmth that you stole. Drifting into an uneasy dream, constantly brushing off the sweat on my brow. Waking up to a silent house isn’t as relaxing as people make it out to be. I was told that you were a good riddance. As I sit on here on the edge of my bed, reminiscing on how our days would start off with so much joy, I seem to think otherwise. Living on without you is the toughest I’ve ever had to go through. My wall is still full of pictures of us throughout the years. It hurts me to even look at them now knowing I was much happier with you than I am now. I just cannot bring myself to take them down because I know that when I do, we will be over for good. Each time I try to push myself out of the pit you left, something deep within the haphazardly locked away moments of us, pulls me beneath the surface again. I should have tried harder to get us out of the dark, but I lost my hold and had to let us go. To see you every day, not moved even one bit by all that happened breaks me even more ; you took pieces of me that I am struggling to replace, I do not know what it is to feel whole or if I ever will again. Stuck in this endless cycle of hurt and regret, I wonder if this will ever get better, and if I will ever get over us.

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