Right Before I Fall Asleep, I Always Think Of You


I think of you. Just about any thought of you will do.

There you were, walking the thin line between my consciousness and slumber. You shone bright as your teeth the day your braces were removed, and you couldn’t wait to show me your smile. Truth is, it never bothered me whether or not you had braces, just that you were happy. A jolt of memories came flooding back, and though I had been desperately sleep deprived, my body refused to allow me to slip into a restful state. My chest ached, my head began to overwork and fill itself with thoughts and scenarios, but mostly memories.

Memories ingrained within my every experience, a shot into the dark that was my mind whenever I drowned in pictures of you.

I grabbed onto the sheets for comfort, hell, I held on for dear life. The coldness that surrounded me intensified, slowly creeping in my toes and fingertips. I felt weak, as if I was incomplete, like a part of me had been absent. Small whimpers started escaping my mouth and I found myself gasping for air. You don’t know why your heart wages war with your mind, and you can only wish for it to stop. For a second of pure clarity and quiet. For a minute of peace.

It was then that I realized that there was a world bigger than I was, and that was you.

The typical night doesn’t end there.

I struggle to win the race, trying to catch my breath and shove down my being a forceful tranquility. I needed peace and serenity and, if even remotely possible, forget everything that we’d been through. Yet, in every moment of weakness and surrender, I find myself holding on to the smallest memories we have of each other. Like holding on to a rope with my hands scarred and bleeding, I can’t let go of something I’ve waited for for half a decade just because our lows have been devastating, but it has been insightful. Our highest of highs give me a reason to believe you entered my life for a reason and your iridescence has since brought infinite multicolor into my once monochromatic routine.

I convince myself that I’ll work harder. I’ll wait more patiently. I’ll be better.

As fatigue takes over me, I swallow the last bit of pain, and feel the lump across my throat. It doesn’t hurt as much as before; love shouldn’t hurt. Nonetheless, it always will. That’s what should keep me peaceful on troubled nights. The certainty that, as oversimplified as it is, that I have something worth losing.

So before I doze off tonight, I’ll say a little prayer. Though there’s no assurance of it being answered or heard, I’ll still keep on fighting my battles and surpassing my hurdles. Maybe I don’t deserve you yet, and maybe I never will. But, if you give me another chance to love you the way you deserve, rest assured we’ll both be able to sleep soundly at night.

You will always be my “one more time”.

Then, I’d be certain, my prayers have been answered, and that reality is definitely much better than any dream I could fathom.