I get tired like the way you wake up. Each chill that sparks through your body and increases your heart rate, sends me back to my nightmares. In my nightmares, I hear orchestras playing lullabies, but each lullaby ends with a catastrophic death of my reflection. Through each crack that lies between your blinds, the sun sends its apologetic rays down to warm your face, while opening your eyes to the 3D possibilities that lie right on the other side of the door. For me, the sun dawns in the same way, but it burns my eyelids, instead of opening them. The sun’s rays present the underlying possibilities of evil that awaits for me outside of my room. When you finally reach for your blaring alarm, your mind starts to open up and you realized that it is Saturday morning and the flowers you and your boyfriend chose to plant in the fertile flower bed are laying right on your counter and you jump from under your covers and you start for the stairs, skipping each one with such grace and agility that a ballerina would stand in awe. When I find enough courage to break away from my bed to finally end the excruciating sirens, I too, realize that it is Saturday and the tears start to fill the insides of my eyes. I skip down my stairs the way you did and I run to my window that opens to the flower bed and I watch my memories lay before my eyes as I see you as myself before the thunderstorms started to enter my ears and the rain started to exit my eyes.