Sleep Talk

I sometimes wonder what it would be like if there was never a him. I'd probably be much happier. I'd probably still have my friends. I'd probably feel like something was missing.

Or rather, someone.

Love is strange. First of all, to love someone you don't have to have a desire to kiss them twenty-four-seven. And second of all, loving someone is when you care about them, and you would rather die than watch them get hurt. Well, maybe not that extreme, but you get the idea.

For a while I've been wondering if I should get my story out.

Because as much as I hate to admit it, I need to talk. And since I can't talk during the day, I'm going to talk at night. But not when I'm awake. Instead I'm going to sleep talk.


1. "Sometimes I wonder...."


I remember when I first met him.

Things were different back then. Back then we were still friends, and we didn't tiptoe around each other, or have to be careful about keeping in touch. I could still see him every day, back then. And right now, all I want is to have that back.

But honestly, the past is the past. Because it builds up the future. For a while, when it first happened, I thought that I would never speak to him again. I thought that the picture of him as a twelve year old was all I was going to have to remember his face.

But then I changed my mind.

I decided that we could still be friends.

And that I didn't have to worry about what they thought or what they said. Because whatever I am, it's me. It's who I am, and what I'm made of. And right now I think that I'm determined. Because I've never wanted something so bad to the point where I cry at night, hoping that I can have it back.

But that's more towards the end. In the beginning, I had thought, "Good riddance," but what a mistake that was. I said that I wouldn't miss him. And he wouldn't miss me. Because how could we? We ruined each other. I ruined his reputation and he ruined how I functioned. I used to never cry. Now I do.

Sometimes I wonder what it would've been like if there was never a him. But I only wonder, for I wouldn't let him go again for the world.

I guess you could ask if I love him. I guess I do. Just not in the way you think I'm implying. There are five types of love. Romance, Trust, Family, Friendship, and Loyalty. I trust him more than I trust my best friend. I value his friendship more than I value whether I have any at all. And I'm loyal to him because he never let go of the image I had when we first met. An innocent girl who was pure on the outside, but twisted and gnarly on the inside.

I don't know if he feels the same about me. But I know he doesn't trust me. And I know that he doesn't see me as a friend. But I also know that he doesn't hate me. He told me so. In fact, that's one of the last things he ever said to me. That he didn't hate me.

I know he cares about me. One night after I had taken a verbal beating by some girls, he texted and called to make sure that I was alright. But I wasn't so forgiving. Because he was there. And he didn't say anything then.

Yet again, most of the time he never protects me in public. Just like I ever protected him. But when we were alone, we took care of each other. Because that's just what we do. And maybe you won't like my boring thoughts. That's okay. Because no matter what happens, you'll never know his name. Or mine for in matter of fact. Because here there is no need, it's just sleep talk.

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