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Part II
20
Dylan
A weeksince I saw Sky—since I left behind my fantasy world of sand and sunshine. Seven days since she walked out of my fucking life, her decision hitting me harder than our cars collided.
I haul my ass out of bed, feeling like crap. The empty bottle on the table mocks me. Months since I last drank heavily and here I am again, back into my old way of coping. Empty bottles, empty head. Everything is worse than last time because I caught a glimpse of how life should be: with Sky.
Do I not learn? This is what feeling somethingrealdoes. Every. Fucking. Time.
Sky, the infuriating girl who I tried to keep my hands off and failed. The moment I touched her skin, I left reality and moved into our illusion by the sea. In this Sky and Dylan world, I was free; freer than I thought I’d be the day I decided to run from shit.
Impossible Sky, the girl who knows me because she never knew me. She gave breath to a new Dylan, the man I want to be, and without her, he'll suffocate again. Every morning since, I wake aching to hold Sky again, to cocoon us in our fragile world we created, and every night I crave the soft warmth of her in my arms.Fuck, listen to me…pathetic.She’s right—I should write a song.
I’ve spoken to Sky, and she says I'm chasing something we could never be, that everything was an illusion. But the connection we made was more than an illusion.
Our Sky and Dylan could exist in the real world too; Sky just needs time to realise.
