I don't have dreams anymore. I don't have night terrors or moments when I feel like you're hiding in the shadows. I don't cry anymore.
I remember everything about you, because you made me.you forced me to remember your name because I said it every day. You forced me to remember how old you were by lording it over me. You forced me to remember your eyes because you kept your face three inches from mine as you pinned my moral to the ground. I could no more forget you as I could lift you off me.
I don't remember exactly when I last saw you. I have relapses where I think I might die if I ever did. But I also have those moments, once in a while when my memories sink low on the bow of sleep, when I remember reading with you. I remember writing with you and you drawing me, and I hate myself a little bit more every time because I don't hate those memories. I treat them with a caution and unease that superman treats kryptonite, because he knows someday it might kill him. But it's a beautiful substance all the same. You can't always haunt my nightmares, but no one ever said anything about trespassing on my dreams. It was always so like you to go where you were never expected. I regret only that I can't erase all of you, except the knowledge that you were a good idea that turned into a better mistake, only because you made me learn more about the world outside my bubble. Congrats, I didn't know your needles were that sharp and that the dreams might someday kill me. But I'm glad I can say now you're out of my nightmares, because now at least you're not there when I wake up in the morning.