It's 1:34 am and rather than dreaming, I'm staring at the white walls surrounded my room. The sound of your voice replays in my head, overtaking my thoughts despite how hard I try to forget you. I'm suffering with the memories of your fingers intertwining with mine, squeezing my hand tightly as we paced through the crowds because you knew large crowds struck fear into my soul. I am stuck with the thought of how it felt to have your lips brushing against my body as I felt every last breath that night. I yearn to relive the moment where I curled up against you and stated "you are my happy place." Despite these moments in which I was happiest, I am writing this in tears, begging for something to end my suffering. The butterflies that once filled my stomach have died out as the beating of my heart slowed. The words you whispered blanketed me through my loneliest moments. But those words went from feeling softer than silk to scraping against my skin as if they were sandpaper. I am forced to cope with the everlasting pain your voice put me through. The simple mention of your name causes a sharp pain directly through my heart, stabbing me as a reminder that your memory will always haunt me. The demons you planted in me have consumed me and I am forced to swallow pills in order to numb out the feelings they bring. And yet, I still have the urge to apologize because I still believe there's a chance that you might love me in return.