Why… why me? I can't stand it. Life chooses him, and it turns a blind eye to me. I need to wake up. This has to be a dream. It has to be.
She doesn't love me… no, that's wrong. She never did. She loves him.
Then why am I the one suffering? Why am I the one breaking? Why should I die like this… not like this?
…
It's warm.
Strangely warm. Soft. Familiar.
Is this how death feels?
No… it isn't. I know this feeling.
My eyes opened slowly, and for a moment, everything felt distant, like I was still caught between two worlds. The ceiling above me came into focus, rough and cracked in the same way I remembered. My breath caught in my throat.
This was my room.
"…My bed?"
Confusion flooded my mind. I pushed myself up slightly, my body still heavy, still aching in places it shouldn't. My heart began to race as fragments of memory forced their way back.
The pain.The darkness.The moment everything ended.
I died.
I was sure of it.
"…Didn't I just die?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.
It didn't make sense. None of it did.
I clenched my fist, trying to ground myself, trying to wake up from what had to be a dream. That had to be it. A dream.
But then—
"Ow…"
The sharp sting shot through my hand as my nails dug into my skin. I froze.
Dreams don't hurt.
Slowly, my breathing grew heavier. The room felt too real. The air too cold. The silence too complete.
A strange feeling crept into my chest, something I couldn't explain. Not fear. Not confusion. Something deeper.
"…Then I'm not dreaming."