Because I am not okay.

I climbed into my bed feeling giddy.
It was strange actually. Feeling giddy again. Almost too strange.
But then I fell asleep. And just like every other night in this endless train of pillows I don't want to lay my head on, I dreamed of you.
And just like this muscle spasm deep in my gut, my dreams of you never seem to just leave me alone.
Always itching for me to notice the irritation again.
You basically told me everything you told Jessica that one time on the phone.
I had to relive the whole thing.

It was awful.

And all I did was tell you that my love was real. Tell you that when I looked into those, oh so familiar, eyes and said,
"I am hopelessly in love with you."
That
I MEANT IT.
And as difficult as trying to portray my feelings into words, here I am trying to describe the indescribable to a blank screen. And to no one that cares.
And all I do is wipe my face and my runny nose over and over and over again.
And in the end, it was all for nothing.
And if I could go back in time and not go to the haunted forest that night, I would.
I regret it all.
Because
I am not okay.
And the thought of you being okay is too much on this shriveled up heart.