Contemplating the differences between "sleep well" and "sweet dreams"
"The phrases are as different as the people who utter them. The simple realist shows he cares with the words 'sleep well', said with the most exceptional of intentions, of course. While the poet, the romantic, the artist... uses 'sweet dreams'.
And she can feel the difference.
There is no superior way, of course. Both make their love known on their own terms. But still that difference hangs there, heavy enough to make her long for the words 'sweet dreams' to carry her to sleep once more. She doesn't even dream, actually.
At least, not anymore.
But maybe if those words were somehow there again, she could. She doesn't sleep well either, but that has less to do with the words and more to do with everything else around her.
If only it was the words that could make a difference.
She knows better than that. The words are merely a reflection of the person that said them. He is what keeps her from dreaming, because she can no longer dream of him. He keeps her from sleeping even, as he fills her thoughts with notions both dark and wonderful. He that ceased to exist long ago still haunts her every night...
His touch is replaced by the coolness of the blade, his words by the sweet stinging sensation, his love by eternal bleeding, a bleeding of the very soul. His 'sweet dreams' replaced by tears.
The tears that stop long enough for her to read 'sleep well', before they resume, more bitter than before.
As she contemplates the difference, the people and their parting words."
"The phrases are as different as the people who utter them. The simple realist shows he cares with the words 'sleep well', said with the most exceptional of intentions, of course. While the poet, the romantic, the artist... uses 'sweet dreams'.
And she can feel the difference.
There is no superior way, of course. Both make their love known on their own terms. But still that difference hangs there, heavy enough to make her long for the words 'sweet dreams' to carry her to sleep once more. She doesn't even dream, actually.
At least, not anymore.
But maybe if those words were somehow there again, she could. She doesn't sleep well either, but that has less to do with the words and more to do with everything else around her.
If only it was the words that could make a difference.
She knows better than that. The words are merely a reflection of the person that said them. He is what keeps her from dreaming, because she can no longer dream of him. He keeps her from sleeping even, as he fills her thoughts with notions both dark and wonderful. He that ceased to exist long ago still haunts her every night...
His touch is replaced by the coolness of the blade, his words by the sweet stinging sensation, his love by eternal bleeding, a bleeding of the very soul. His 'sweet dreams' replaced by tears.
The tears that stop long enough for her to read 'sleep well', before they resume, more bitter than before.
As she contemplates the difference, the people and their parting words."
One comment 2 likes
Another thing I have mixed feelings about... I found out about another one of my friends who cuts, and I've started to notice something. The happier a person seems on the outside, the worse they're probably feeling on the inside. At least in the case of me and my friends. It makes me feel a little better knowing that I'm not the only one of them who feels so depressed. But it also makes me sad that all of these people who I saw as happy are really hurting inside. Let's see... I now know 4 of my friends cut themselves, one has been keeping secrets about his awful past, and another has tried to kill herself. They were all the happiest people I knew. And most of them said they thought I always seemed really happy too. We really don't know each other as well as we thought we did.
One comment 17 likes
I guess it's just a universal truth of life that when something even remotely good happens, another something bad has to come and cancel it out. Sorry to keep using this site as a blog, but I'm too lazy to start a real blog. The long set descriptions are basically my version of a journal that no one I know can ever find out about. So you can just ignore these.
One of my close friends found my cuts, and at first she just pointed at them with a questioning look on her face, which worried me a bit. Then after everyone else left, she talked to me about it in the best way I could have hoped for. Turns out she cuts too, and has for quite sometime. The first person I've talked to who actually understands the feelings behind it. We decided that we're just gonna help each other out as best we can. We're buying blades together this weekend at Lowe's, since we both finally have someone to go with to get more.
Another one of my friends also found my cuts. His reaction was the main one I was expecting, and the one I was most afraid of. When a conversation starts with the words "What is your problem?", you know that it can only go downhill from there. Turns out that he was sexually abused as a child, and has experienced 7 deaths in his family in the past 5 years. He also felt guilty about not being able to protect his little sister from the same abuse, and now he has no way to ever make that up to her and be her big brother again. Basically he said that I have no right to be depressed about anything because his life is so much worse than mine, and he's dealt with it just fine without telling anyone but me, and without cutting. I feel like a really shitty friend now, but I'm also just a tiny bit pissed that he feels I don't deserve to express pain just because his life is worse than mine. As if being depressed was something I fucking chose for myself. Well, things eventually got sorta worked out, but not before he could get in that it had been a weird day, "finding out that my friend's an emo. No offense." Just what I wanted to hear. So after this whole conversation was over, I realized how rarely I've felt such a strong urge to punch someone and give them a huge hug at the same time. I honestly don't know what we're supposed to say to each other now. I've never felt so guilty and embarrassed.
One of my close friends found my cuts, and at first she just pointed at them with a questioning look on her face, which worried me a bit. Then after everyone else left, she talked to me about it in the best way I could have hoped for. Turns out she cuts too, and has for quite sometime. The first person I've talked to who actually understands the feelings behind it. We decided that we're just gonna help each other out as best we can. We're buying blades together this weekend at Lowe's, since we both finally have someone to go with to get more.
Another one of my friends also found my cuts. His reaction was the main one I was expecting, and the one I was most afraid of. When a conversation starts with the words "What is your problem?", you know that it can only go downhill from there. Turns out that he was sexually abused as a child, and has experienced 7 deaths in his family in the past 5 years. He also felt guilty about not being able to protect his little sister from the same abuse, and now he has no way to ever make that up to her and be her big brother again. Basically he said that I have no right to be depressed about anything because his life is so much worse than mine, and he's dealt with it just fine without telling anyone but me, and without cutting. I feel like a really shitty friend now, but I'm also just a tiny bit pissed that he feels I don't deserve to express pain just because his life is worse than mine. As if being depressed was something I fucking chose for myself. Well, things eventually got sorta worked out, but not before he could get in that it had been a weird day, "finding out that my friend's an emo. No offense." Just what I wanted to hear. So after this whole conversation was over, I realized how rarely I've felt such a strong urge to punch someone and give them a huge hug at the same time. I honestly don't know what we're supposed to say to each other now. I've never felt so guilty and embarrassed.
Comment 5 likes
I really hope you read that title in the voice from the intro to the games... Apocalypse is probably my favorite movie, and Umbrella Chronicles is my favorite game. I wish I could be as epic as Alice is sometimes.
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