𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐲 || 𝐭. 𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚

⤷𝟜𝟟: 𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤

waking up isn't easy.

that's right. it needed to be said.

that simple sentence needed to be said.

waking up isn't easy.

in all honesty, people should be given credit for just existing.

(people should be given more credit for many things, actually.)

because it's never easy.

✰

you weren't really a dreamer.

well, okay.

it would be more accurate to say that you didn't dream often.

as in, when you sleep, you never really wake up with any recollection of anything.

(the last time you had a dream was probably three or four years ago. and it was hands down the weirdest dream you've ever lived through, where...oh boy. you were ordering waffles for a giant spider that had kidnapped you but there were no waffles in stock so instead you went to france and saw todoroki running through the streets with dabi chasing him and you didn't know what was happening because the giant spider kidnapper was then chasing you so you were sprinting after todoroki asking him to freeze the ugly ass spider but dabi was in the way and all of a sudden noodles started falling from the ground and then a giant levi ackerman was floating in the sky with rainbows exploding from his hair and also had gojo satoru sitting on a box ending with yuzuru hanyu skating on top of the eiffel tower because yuzuru hanyu is a god at everything and i don't make the rules.)

(we're not even going to try to unpack all that.)

moral of the story: you don't dream.

except...when you do.

it was the most beautiful dream.

you could feel it through your entire body.

it was one of those unreal dreams, one of those dreams filled with...so much love.

it was the type of dream you'd chase after, hoping to never gain consciousness.

because as soon as you wake up, it'll be over.

you turned over, wanting to hold onto the last few memories of paradise.

last night held the most bewitching dream; a dream that you weren't ready—that you'd never be ready—to leave.

the memory itself was enchanting.

that's probably why it was beautiful, isn't it?

everything beautiful is always a memory.

a mere thought of something that's always out of your grasp.

you mentally screamed as you felt yourself waking.

probably for the first time, you did not welcome the wake.

probably for the millionth time, you wished to escape the real world.

it really was unfortunate—the way that life was never on your side.

the sleep drifted away from you in peace as your consciousness returned.

and there goes the dream.

there it goes...to a place i'll never return to.

it was so beautiful, too.