literature

mes cauchemars t'aiment aussi

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Literature Text

    7 AM: i'm pretending to sleep in order to keep myself awake from you, even though you're just whispering to the person next to you about me – but no it's not about me; it never is. i'm just paranoid and jealous and in over my head (not you) i'm thinking of the lines for me you should've at least Googled instead of fabricating lies to me that are just as fabricated as you and your ersatz partner-in-crime whose name makes me cringe in the same way your eyelashes do, especially when they look away. you study not the science of Nightmares, but the science of love and manipulation. no, that's his job, naturally, since you're both out to get me, and i'm trying to get you alone with me, or at least away from incubi and doppelgangers and ghosts and all those demons i wish were real, just so they could haunt the bullshit out of you... fast-forward four and a half hours; i'm sitting with your counterpart– wait, no – sitting across or against, fated two rows and four seats apart from the ones we never shall meet. and i'm still snoozing in day terrors; at least my soul is, or would if i had one; one, two, and my snores must be in a fucking foreign language too you looksmelltastesound like a reverie, so tell me why you'll never come true. i've stopped remembering my Dreams, but you probably aren't in them anyway.
hypersomnia;
wake me up
motherfuck.
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