I dreamed a dream. I dreamed it before all this...this hell. When the world was bright and there was a purpose to live. I had hoped beyond hope that somehow, this thing could happen. That Sherlock could...love me. Turns out he could.
I was so naïve then. I believed that those times would last forever. I finally had Sherlock, and I used that as an excuse to be happy. I felt complete, and forgot other aspirations. I didn't yet feel the repercussions. I just immersed myself in Sherlock, and, as always, I let myself care.
But then came Jim Moriarty. He seemed to be this omniscient presence that brought a dark thunder-cloud over everything he touched. He began to tear us apart, and turn everyone else against us.
When Sherlock slept by my side, it seemed to always be summer. I filled my life with a happiness that I had never known. He and I changed each other in ways we couldn't have imagined. But then came the fall, and autumn descended upon us.
I used to dream that it was an elaborate hoax. I dreamed that one day, he would show up on our doorstep, and we would live our years together. But I see now that this dream cannot be; miracles don't happen. This is the one dream that I could not survive without.
I hd dreamt this perfect world to distract myself from the tragic mistake I made. A dream that got me through the hell I'm living. A dream where caring was a good thing. But I see through that now.
To whoever finds this note: Life has killed the dream I dreamed.
