The Escapism Of A Hopeless Insomniac She lay there and gazed upwards at the spiralling and swirled pattern dancing with fatigue across her ceiling with nothing but him occupying her every thought, her every molecule, her every moment. She longed for him yet at the same time felt a bitter and twisted loathing for him eat away at her directly from the gut. "It's curious," she thought aloud in the darkness, with only the reflections of the street lights from outside her window to warm her room with its radiating orange glow, "that someone can miss another so much, yet want them dead in such similar quantities." It was obvious why, the history the two of them held together was enough to craft a novel a thousand years long, so it was natural to miss the gaping hole that used to be filled with his presence and the hatred came for the person he was around others, always treating them like board games that he had to win and conquer. It repulsed her yet he'd lingered around on her in a very similar fashion not so long ago, how had she been so naive? Her skin crawled with disgust, it felt useless and saggy on her limbs and she felt hideous and used once again, his words circulated her mind whilst her hands ran across her hair as she tugged on it with frustration- why was she still in this state? Her solution back then had been counterproductive and something he had thrown in her face as a reason for him sticking around so long. You can't love someone out of pity, but you can always pretend to. If Freddie Mercury hadn't already claimed the title "The Great Pretender" he would definitely own it and this saddened her because Freddie was great in every sense whereas he was only great in fantasy, great in the way he wove himself as a story to her and so many others, a slightly different variation playing to each figure individually. But who was she kidding? She spent her #life pretending too, so many elements of herself were lost and trapped and morphed by so many things and reasons, particularly since she had stopped punishing herself physically for each individual thing that went wrong, instead her emotions took such a pounding it was a wonder she was still mentally able to function at all. Although, gradually the decay was beginning to become visible, she didn't sleep anymore and when she did was burdened with such a wide spectrum of nightmares that it was often better to just face the consequences of not closing her eyes come nightfall. It was the fault of loneliness of course, that had been something he could cure and he could do it very well. But it was time to move forward and forget, opening the next page of her current book she drew the curtains descending her room into darkness and flicked the switch on her fairy lights until was completely enveloped in a far more peaceful, less crowed and escapist atmosphere of tranquil fantasy.