Living4me

I crack my eyes open to the warmth of another laying there, safely holding me to their chest. My fingers, splayed across bare skin, twitch with want to explore. Our legs are entangled; I know that his shorts must have left impressions into my skin for how long we must have been like this. Their arms pull me in tighter, as if to let me know everything was okay. I move to place a soft kiss on their jaw and pause when I recognize who is cradling me in their arms. My alarm drags me back to my lonely bed. It takes a moment to orient myself, my roommate asking when we have to report. Wrestling myself to get out of the soft blankets I answer before sitting on the edge of the bed to put on socks. Through the waking fog I begin to feel awe and horror. The person I was dreaming of was not who it should have been. It was not my husband. Dread captured me in cold tendrils. I look at the nightstand where the phone screen that just lit up drew my attention. Closer inspection brought feelings of

There was no air. A sharp pain filled my lungs instead as I listened to the tension in the voices rise along with their volume. When did things become this way? Stress has never really been a problem, but when ever they are brought into a conversation a weight settles on my chest and my tongue becomes thick. There is no reason to be nervous - it is just words, bits of spit and vibration that enables communication. Words can not physically hurt you. They should not be able to hurt you. But why do they? . . . . . . . . . . Shaking begins in my voice first - from adrenaline or feelings, I do not know. What ever it is, it continues down my throat, through my shoulders and to my hands. Down my spine and jerking my back muscles and twitching veins around my knees. I have to move. Run. Scream. Get away. Or else - the tears begin to form. There is no reason for this. None what-so-ever. Wait. People talk about their lives all the time as if it were nothing. Not this. Why can I never get

I don't know when it started to become a near daily occurrence. It was something that made my heart race from anxiety. It took a while for me to figure out that was what that feeling was. I had always read in Fairy Tales and Romance Novels that the heart racing was a good thing around someone you liked or trusted. It was a hint to the readers that the character had feelings for the other. But naivety runs into ignorance just as quickly as self admonishments fall into despair. How often did I tell myself that it was a okay. That this was a normal between two people that liked each other. That television shows things like this as funny or cute or sexy. How often was being found out a long drawn out trope? If I had known then that it would create the person I am now; that I would have rather told myself to drop everything and just tell my parents; the past me probably would have had a panic attack. Probably would have been in a place he would have searched and I would be given the