There it is again.
That pull in my chest. That grip fear can have.
Only tighter.
Every so often it sneaks up on me and there is nothing i can do about it. I can't breath. I can't speak. I can't walk...I can't function.
This usually happens early in the morning when my half of the world is asleep. Something wrenches me away from the already unsettling sleep that I'm trying to endure.
I've been taken captive. Something's holding on and not letting go. It's no longer a nightmare but a reality that slams me as i blink forcefully, willing my eyes to come into focus. Three AM.
'I've been taken captive,' I think once again then give a twisted smirk. Most people would simply state that they'd had a broken heart. Not me. Because most people can say they remember the last two years of their life. Most people didn't love someone for so long, wake up and find them married. Married. That word. It strikes with such force. Before it was something to explore, but now, just two years later...
...As i replay over and over the scene that played out in Hong Kong, as i do just about every night, I can feel my eyes begin to sting with the same hot, bitter tears. That pull in my chest gets worse. Like someone has it in a vice. It continues to get tighter every night.
My eyes shift to the nightstand next to me and fall on the top drawer. I try to resist the urge to drag it open but my attempts are futile. I roll over and pull the handle and see a small silver picture frame with two smiling, happy people in it. I stare at it for a few seconds before pulling it close to me. Those angry and hopeless tears begin to spill from my eyes. I sit there for a few moments, lost in the grips of my despair. Wallowing in sorrow, finding my only comfort in the salty tears that streak down my face and hit the sheets. God it hurts. It hurts to cry. It hurts to breath. It hurts to just...be. This ache, it can't be described. It's not a heartache, no, something far worse then that.
"Knock it off Sydney, get a grip. This is life now," i murmur to myself as i angrily stash the frame and it's haunting photograph back in the drawer and slam it shut. Throwing the sheets off i slide out of bed and head to the bathroom wipping my face with my sleeve as i go. Pulling tissues from the box with a bit more force then necessary, i attempt to dry my face. Finding that useless, i turn on the warm water and splash it on my face. As i drag a towel past my eyes i am forced to look in the mirror at the ghost of the women i have become.
Sure i go through the motions. I get up in the morning, an effort in and of itself. I get dressed and go to work smiling at everyone. Dad, Dixon, Marshall, Weiss. But sometimes i can tell they see right through me, although to their benefit they try and act like nothing has changed.
But I believe i am getting better, i have to. When i push open those damn doors, my eyes don't immediately seek him out...just my heart.
Sighing i set the towel down and flick off the light on my way by.
Before crawling back into bed, i go to my window and stare out into the blackness, the darkness. Night's are always the worst. When i'm home, with nothing but my thoughts.
Just me.
Facing the Night.
Alone.
That pull in my chest. That grip fear can have.
Only tighter.
Every so often it sneaks up on me and there is nothing i can do about it. I can't breath. I can't speak. I can't walk...I can't function.
This usually happens early in the morning when my half of the world is asleep. Something wrenches me away from the already unsettling sleep that I'm trying to endure.
I've been taken captive. Something's holding on and not letting go. It's no longer a nightmare but a reality that slams me as i blink forcefully, willing my eyes to come into focus. Three AM.
'I've been taken captive,' I think once again then give a twisted smirk. Most people would simply state that they'd had a broken heart. Not me. Because most people can say they remember the last two years of their life. Most people didn't love someone for so long, wake up and find them married. Married. That word. It strikes with such force. Before it was something to explore, but now, just two years later...
...As i replay over and over the scene that played out in Hong Kong, as i do just about every night, I can feel my eyes begin to sting with the same hot, bitter tears. That pull in my chest gets worse. Like someone has it in a vice. It continues to get tighter every night.
My eyes shift to the nightstand next to me and fall on the top drawer. I try to resist the urge to drag it open but my attempts are futile. I roll over and pull the handle and see a small silver picture frame with two smiling, happy people in it. I stare at it for a few seconds before pulling it close to me. Those angry and hopeless tears begin to spill from my eyes. I sit there for a few moments, lost in the grips of my despair. Wallowing in sorrow, finding my only comfort in the salty tears that streak down my face and hit the sheets. God it hurts. It hurts to cry. It hurts to breath. It hurts to just...be. This ache, it can't be described. It's not a heartache, no, something far worse then that.
"Knock it off Sydney, get a grip. This is life now," i murmur to myself as i angrily stash the frame and it's haunting photograph back in the drawer and slam it shut. Throwing the sheets off i slide out of bed and head to the bathroom wipping my face with my sleeve as i go. Pulling tissues from the box with a bit more force then necessary, i attempt to dry my face. Finding that useless, i turn on the warm water and splash it on my face. As i drag a towel past my eyes i am forced to look in the mirror at the ghost of the women i have become.
Sure i go through the motions. I get up in the morning, an effort in and of itself. I get dressed and go to work smiling at everyone. Dad, Dixon, Marshall, Weiss. But sometimes i can tell they see right through me, although to their benefit they try and act like nothing has changed.
But I believe i am getting better, i have to. When i push open those damn doors, my eyes don't immediately seek him out...just my heart.
Sighing i set the towel down and flick off the light on my way by.
Before crawling back into bed, i go to my window and stare out into the blackness, the darkness. Night's are always the worst. When i'm home, with nothing but my thoughts.
Just me.
Facing the Night.
Alone.