Author's Note:
I haven't written anything in years mostly due to a lack of time, but today I just really felt like writing something and putting it on here. I have no idea where this story is going, and I have no plans for it. If I feel like it I might write more. I doubt anyone will even read this, but if you do I'd love to hear your thoughts about the story or just life in general.

I didn't have the energy to cry anymore, so I felt relieved when the sky started doing it for me. The rain on my skin reminded me that I was alive. I looked in through the window at Luke and saw him laying in the bed sleeping, completely unaware that the world was moving around him. I was jealous. Peace like that seemed to be a world away from me. Even when I was asleep I couldn't find rest.
After a year, I still couldn't understand why he was in love with me. Every time he would tell me, part of my brain would yell that he was just saying that because he thought I wanted to hear it. He rolled over. His arm reached over to my side of the bed, reaching out to a person who wasn't there. I turned back to look over the balcony. My legs were dangling off the edge, and I could feel the air rushing past my bare feet. It was still night, and the city was alive with lights and sounds.
I couldn't feel the time passing, but eventually the rain stopped and the sun started to peak its head over the skyline. I stood up and opened the door behind me, walking back into the apartment. I changed into a dry t-shirt and made my way to the kitchen. I turned on the coffee maker inhaling deeply. Coffee smells like mornings, and morning means that the night is finally over. Insomnia is cruel because it won't let you sleep at night and leaves you exhausted before your day has even started.
As soon as the coffee was ready, I cradled a cup in my hands as I made my way to the bathroom to get ready for my day. After getting my degree, I started at an architecture firm in New York City. I loved the job and looked forward to losing myself in my work every day. By the time I was done in the bathroom, Luke's alarm started going off. I walked into the bedroom right as he pressed snooze. His arm was flung over his eyes in an attempt to ignore the inevitable start of the day. I leaned in to give him a quick peck.

"Good morning," he mumbled, his voice still filled with sleep, "how did you sleep?"

"Good," I replied.

"I didn't hear your alarm clock go off."

"I woke up like 30 seconds before it went off and decided I didn't want to start my day with an alarm," I responded. A little white lie wouldn't hurt him.

"Good," he mumbled rolling over. I dug through the closet looking for a good outfit to wear to the office. I threw some patterned dress pants and a sweatshirt onto the chair next to the closet and went over to the other side of the room to get a pair of heels. As I went, Luke reached up and pulled me back down into the warmth and comfort of our bed.

"Let's just call in sick and stay home today," he mumbled kissing my neck.
"You say that every day," I laughed.

"I mean it every day," he responded, rolling over on top of me.

"Well as wonderful as that sounds, we both need to go to work." I ran my hands up and down his arms. "There is coffee in the kitchen."

He rolled off of me mumbling about how he would prefer more sleep over coffee and walked into the kitchen. I got back up and got dressed. I kissed him goodbye and told him that I loved him as I walked out of the door. Every time that I told him I loved him I felt a little guilty. I did love him but I felt like we loved each other in a different way. In a year he would want to propose. We would have a big wedding and move to the suburbs to be closer to his parents. He wanted three kids and a white picket fence. He wanted us to worry about what snack to bring to soccer practice, and what we would cook when we invite the neighbors over for a dinner party. He loved me like he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. I loved him as much as I could but how was I supposed to have kids and be happy when every day was a war against my own mind?