And it’s a bittersweet feeling,

really difficult to explain.

I’ve met a lot of people,

I’ve loved them very deeply.

I know I can't control the way they loved me back:

aggressive, intense, tiny little stitches,

they burn my skin.

I look often at their patchwork

and the past we share.

And I’ve known you for so long now—

I love you very deeply,

and I can’t control the way you love me back:

harsh, fierce, tiny little stitches,

they scar my skin.

And it’s a confusing feeling,

so hard to understand.

My skin’s marked by people,

by the people I very deeply love.

I know I can’t control the way they love me back:

piercing, burning, tiny little stitches.

I wish I could see my skin.

I often look back at myself

and the people I’ve met.

I wonder if I’ve marked you the same now.

You love me very deeply,

and I can’t control the way I love you back:

aggressive, intense, tiny little stitches.

I see the scars in your skin.

“No!" Everything suddenly stopped; I felt their eyes on me. "You don't understand. I'm dreaming and you're all part of it." At this point in my dreams, things usually get tense. My mind can do whatever it wants with me—controlling my thoughts while I remain fully aware of it, yet inert. This time, they were just confused and scared. One of them, with sadness in his voice, asked "Will I die when you wake up?"  And I couldn't answer. The fear in his voice reminded me of my own. And then I wake up.

It’s still very early in the morning and my body feels stuck. With much struggle, I get out of bed. Standing still, silence wraps around me. I’m not afraid of sleeping anymore, but not being able to wake up.

Nothing feels familiar in my room yet there is comfort in the idea I’m here, alone. Then, the silence breaks: a cacophony of sound but the noise is spiraling out of my mind. In the distance, a quiet buzzing appears and all of the sudden the noise stops and a voice quietly asks: "Will I die when you wake up?"

I blink. And then I wake up