Page 15 of Sweet Nightmare

Always have and I always will.

I’m a summer kind of asshole.

Give me heat.

Give me sunlight.

Give me anything that doesn’t feel like the world is trying to freeze you alive.

I press my palm against the glass and feel instantly how the cold bites back. It’s like winter is reminding me exactly why I’ve spent my entire life trying to outrun it.

“What a heartless bitch you are…” I whisper to no one.

My breath fogs the glass beneath my tattooed hand and a few seconds later, frost begins creeping across the surface. The ice spreads outward, forming branches until it creates the shape of a snowflake.

But not a perfect one.

A cracked one, split straight down the middle.

I stare at it longer than I should.

Of course that’s what it becomes.

Not whole.

Not flawless.

Broken.

I let out a humorless laugh.

Seems about fucking right.

I lower my gaze to my hand.

Scarred knuckles.

Faded cuts.

Black ink winding across skin that has never quite healed right.

Something I haven’t felt in years settles between my ribs like an unwanted guest. It doesn’t hurt the way grief does. It’s quieter than that.

Patient, too.

It reminds me that no matter how much I build and no matter how much I achieve…something is still missing inside of me.

A piece I can’t name.

A void I can’t fill.

I’m not sad.

I’m not lonely.

Those feelings would be easier.

This is something else.