That Familiar Ache

 Lately, I’ve been waking up with this tightness in my chest. Not like panic—more like mourning. You know how you can grieve something before it’s gone? That’s what it feels like. Except I don’t know what I’m losing.

Dorian says I should meditate more. (He’s right, but also… shut up, Dorian.) He’s been doing that thing again where he sends me audio notes instead of texts—so I can “hear him smile.” It helps. A little.

I’ve been dreaming in strange colors. Pale blue and a shade of red I’ve never seen before. I don’t know how to explain it. Sometimes, when I wake up, I swear the air smells like cedar. We don’t have cedarwood anything in the apartment.

I’ve started recording my dreams in a voice diary. Just in case they mean something. Just in case I forget.

I don’t know why I’m writing this here. Maybe I just need it somewhere outside of me.

—V

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