I dream about you sometimes. Most of the time I wake up sad because of it. Sad because I could feel your heat and then I wake up and realize that I imagined it. I’ll wake up in sweat and tears, because my imagination is stronger than it should be. Your face is never the same in my dreams, your eyes are sad and I imagine this because I know mine are. I dream about you even when I know that it is toxic. I dream about you because you are what I try hardest not to think about it. It’s a bad cycle, you see. The kind where non-thought leads to over-thought and the creation of such terms. You are there and I am here, and I know when I am awake that this is what is supposed to be. I am here and you are not. This tangible piece of information, this thing I know, sometimes it hurts me. Sometimes it helps me. At least I know that in my dreams I will hear you and see you. At least I can pretend that you are okay and that I am okay in our circles that no longer overlap. Maybe it is the distance that has healed me, although it constantly works against me. Maybe my dreams are safe, even though I know they are not.