Fading

I wake up every morning depressed.

It's always the same. There's the fading moments in between the remnants of the last fragments of my dreams and the contrast-less bitter reality I awake to. Then comes my one true indication that my sleep is over; my alarm. I snatch up my phone, slide the 'off' switch, check the messages. Place it on the bedside table. Close my eyes and sigh.

Then I cross my arms across my chest and pretend that someone- anyone -is there with me. I focus in on the sound of their breath. The resonating vibrations of their voice seeping through their sleep. The feel of their body against mine. They are real. They are real.

This is real.

I open my eyes. It's gone. I'm alone again. I'm depressed. I'm fading.

I long to hear the words I've uttered for so long... the commitment I've made repeated to the cracks in my soul..

"I'd surely die a thousand deaths before allowing the victory of your fading demise."

I sit up and let my face interlacedly grate into my fingers and palms. When I look up, everything will be gone.

now.

I'm still here, and so is the world. I do not possess the power to convince myself otherwise so easily. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe then I'll fade away.

The world will hold me one more day.