They say we dream every night, but don’t always remember our dreams. Or rather, we choose not to remember them. I used to remember my dreams in vivid detail, especially when I dreamed of her.
I used to think I knew myself better than most people do, because I didn’t deceive myself that my conscious mind was all of me. My dreams helped me to know myself, and kept me honest. Now that I no longer remember my dreams, I no longer know myself.
She was so much a part of who I was that I couldn’t imagine myself without her. So I tried to kill myself. My body didn’t die, as hers did, but my mind began dying. I could feel my prefrontal cortex going numb.
I’m now dead in every way that matters.
I’m willing myself to die because I don’t want to live without her. But Is there still a part of me that wants to live, even without her? And if there is, am I now so close to death that it no longer matters what I want?