Hold on || dreamnotfound

chapter eighteen

dream's point of view
tw: panic attack

I couldn't do it. How would I ever be able to have a normal conversation with him when the feeling of rejection flooded my brain every time he stepped into the room?

So I just stood there, inspecting my reflection in the mirror for at last ten minutes now. I was a mess. The dark eye bags were reaching their final state, making the rest of my face look even more pale than it already was. My once fluffy hair was pressed against my forehead due to the lack of showers or baths I had taken in the past. Not to mention my still puffy eyes that were the result of the previous night.

I hadn't slept a single second, not wanting to return to another nightmare. Not that I would've been able to sleep anyways. My thoughts were harassing me, shouting threads at me while Sapnap was right next to me, wanting to make sure I was alright but eventually falling asleep himself.

We had spent the whole day in my room. If he wasn't asking awkward questions, we would just sit or lie on my bed, enjoying the silence and rethinking our previous conversations. Sap had come to the decision that I should go to therapy, but there was no way I would just tell some stranger about my feelings. It had hurt, but I had lied to him again, telling him I would search for a therapist as soon as I was in the condition to do a phone call.

At around four in the morning, my thoughts had calmed down and I was finally able to relax. I didn't sleep, but closing my eyes and thinking about nothing but a black void was somehow refreshing. That was until George had decided we needed to talk. The thoughts had came crashing down on me as bad as yesterday so I had to take all the strength that was left in my fragile body and escaped into the bathroom.

Now I stood here, unsure of what to do while George was waiting outside. He actually thought I would talk to him or even listen to what he wanted to say. There was no way I would let what was left of my heart shatter into pieces another time.

I could just scream at him until he left, which eventually worked last time, but I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I decided to do so.
It was still hard to forget the look on George's face when I told him to leave, almost like it was burned into the back of my mind, haunting me whenever I decided to close my eyes. Because no matter how much he hurt me, my feelings for him hadn't change even just a bit. How could I still love him as much as before when he treated me like something gross he found under his shoe?

He had given me the illusion that there was a chance he liked me back, but within the fraction of a second, he took the warm, free feeling from me and destroyed it.

I was angry at him and the strong feeling was a great variety to the numbness I felt more and more often. Why did he first kiss me and then pull back again? Wasn't he aware what that could do to a person?

I tried my best to concentrate my anger on George, but if I was honest, most of it was directed against myself. I just couldn't forgive me. The one little moment when I had dropped my facade had been enough to get hurt again. Why had I been so stupid? Thinking that a person like George would be able to love someone like me was just delusive, almost ridiculous.

Without my noticing, my hands had clenched together into fists again, ripping open the just healing wounds on my palms.

That was when it finally, finally hit me.

This is wrong

I was almost drowning in self-pity, not even realizing it until now. Still, I didn't feel any better, but there was a strange feeling added to the chaos inside of me.