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Before Dreams

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In bed, the night is chilling. No, it's not the night. It is the thoughts that run through the mind and soul. What have we done? What could we do to prevent it. I struggle to keep myself from drowning in the sea of my mistakes, my selfish ship of my own perfectionist side sinking slowly. That anguished look. Should I have looked away. At that moment, my face was red in embarrassed. Right here in my bed, with the stillness of the darkness and the ocean of my sins, my face is still red: with shame. And what could I have done to dim the spotlight on that one person? Maybe I should have given them a reassuring smile, or at least done something. Even if a thousand blankets were atop of me, I wouldn't be warm. My conscience made it hard to remind myself that I wasn't in a blizzard, and that my cold hearted choices wasn't the wind, nipping at my cheeks, threatening to kill me. It is the usual routine nowadays. The moonlight sifting through my curtains. Me, shivering. My eyes squeezed tight. And all I can think about is how long I will stay away, thinking about these things.



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