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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