Christmas Eve
It's Christmas Eve, I'm not yet awake. It happened exactly as I had written in a shitty script on my phone while high on Lorazepam. We meet, after the longest of days. I give a hug, he detangles from my arms. I sit across him in defiance only to see him relieved to take up all the space on his seat and the seat beside his. Then I meet his girlfriend. She looks like the girl from office that also looked like the ex before me. I smile with violence. I pinch her cheeks with violence. I hate her already. Everyone is on the move because there is an airstrike and he is called to report to his battalion, and join a war where he would possibly never return from. I lose him, I lose him again. As a child, Christmas Eve is an occasion to really jump out of the bed for. Today, I open my eyes to drink in the relief that I am waking up from a bad dream. Somedays I don't even know where these dreams come from. Perhaps my mind is giving me chance upon chance to do the right thing, react co