To evoke
I'm angry, and hurt. I feel like I have a sharp pain in the midst of my chest and as the thought of the reminder churns in the pit of my stomach, it ties a more pernicious knot causing my every urge to vomit. And as I write, I have the subtle sense of depression and the prospect of this all being a dream. And I will wake up and find out that none of it has happened. That I will wake up and find a smiling face. For now, I will sleep, and arouse from my bed tomorrow in the dream that I had never awoke from.