“Let’s just stop and think before I lose faith,” the fight facilities remix plays eerily in the back of my mind after I’m startled awake from another nightmare. The tail ends of my subconscious fears linger and trail through my reality.

I dreamt that my dad’s friend brought James down to see me. But this wasn’t the James I remember-just as one could argue I’m not the same person they remembered-only his appearance was different. He’s taller with darker hair and his stomach protrudes over the waistband of his jeans as if he’s pregnant. Come to think of it, he closer resembled my step-father than anyone else.

He pulls me in close relieved to be with me again and kisses the top of my head affectionately. When I questioned his appearance, he insisted he looked the same as ever; consistently 145 pounds despite his appearance suggesting otherwise. Tears came to my eyes as I confessed how much I had missed him. When he asked me what happened in our time apart, I began to dive into the story of my bad trip and my horrific first experience candy flipping. His arms dropped from around me and his face turned stone cold.

“You did what?” his shame and anger was apparent. “I don’t know who you are anymore.” he uttered backing away.

I was so confused and hurt by the gesture.

I thought he would have been far more empathetic and compassionate unlike the all the others who had left.

He was supposed to be different. But in this reality he was just the same.


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