Naps are not kind to me.
They're always worrisome; I always wake up with a start, scrambling for my phone because it feels like the day has gone and the night has come. That's usually not the case. Because the bad dreams keep me on the brink of awakening anyway. They're not nightmares of the terror type - they're just stress points that you try to store in your subconscious but they somehow manage to find their way out when your guard is down.
Like being late. I hate being late. Or being invisible. When people forget I'm there or don't listen to me, I get a bit nervous. Or you, because I know you're not someone who's going to be part of my reality. You're always so much nicer to me in my dreams. I hate it.
Be truthful to me, dreams. I still believe you're magical. Don't go breaking my heart.
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