The best part of the day is night. Because then, I sleep, and the pain goes away for a while. And I dream.
I dream about her. Always her.
At night, I can be with her again. We can relive old memories together, or create wonderful new ones.
I fly, Julie next to me, and we glide over the sea as the sun sets with a warm glow. The world seems so peaceful, so empty; like we're the only two people in the universe. I see her face, lit up with her smile, and it's just... her. She's there, she really is, and we share a moment of eye contact before she breaks it off to look at the sun in the distance. And it's beautiful; these moments always are. Just me, and Julie.
My Julie.
My Julie, who, even in that god-awful prison, was witty, and poetic, and beautiful, and eloquent, and... just magnificent. Just Julie. She wouldn't let anyone stop her from being herself, not ever.
Sometimes I dream that she and I have grown old together. And she wasn't scared to grow old anymore, because I was there for her, all the time. Loving her, all those years. Every day, I was there to keep her warm, and happy, and safe.
That's how it should have been. How I wish it had been, with every fibre of my being. It hurt too much to face the reality these days. Like being kicked in the stomach by a horse, having my heart ripped out, my lungs punctured, my head bound by a tightening rope, all at the same time. I preferred to float through each day- numb- waiting for the night to fall.
I just want her back. Please, God, just bring her back. Let me be with her again outside the dreams.
