Thought

ue

myself in t

to his existence has unnerved me. I've extended my usual routine of avoiding sleep to past midnight. I'm not excite

how bloodshot my eyes are. Either there is something intrinsically wrong w

sounds

en eyes. At one point in my life, I admired the green flecks within my hazel eyes, but now they have lost all familiar colour. I don'

ed by heavy rain. I'm not sure wh

oint where I can consider sleeping. Leaning over it, I open the window enough to let the sound of the thunder and rain outside in, b

ace until only my neck and head are above the wat

rything wer

fway across the land? I'm not sure where I must have read about him, to start having dreams about those eyes, but it was surely

an's?" I say aloud, tracing the surface of the water with the

t here I am, completely unsure of where tomorrow will take me. Or tonight, even. I'm not looking forward to another nigh

y eyes. Should I just

confusing enough, you're thrust into a world with magic and immortals," I

ng in the bath with me, loungi

reams, but not Revel. I've never seen such a clear, focused image of him befor

re a cloudy, faint silver. Either the steam is playing tricks on me, or I actually can see built up mist within his irises, swirling around,

in," I breathe, tipping

such a bad thi

hing me intently. His bare shoulders, neck and chest that remains above water, are so perfectly beaded with ba

nal mind, I know factually that he doesn't exist. But I can't bring m

avoiding his gaze. "But then again, I suppose you can't, because you're so

You should just try

oth and entwined with the slightest hint of an acce

the surface and end it all?" I comment, considering my previous dark thoughts. I would h

d Della say if

n you might think. You're just looki

outside of my mind. Perfect shining hair, magical eyes, flawless skin, immaculate bone structure. His lips are full, his

t to glance down at myself through the water. Not that he has even considered cast

tions if you're just asking them to

my eyes

are just a figment

es an e

terally wash away all my problems. At least this bath is still hot, and an even hotter male is

this is a symptom of writing way too much. But no therapist knows the answer, so here I am, ranting to a r

ll h

ghter. All along, I knew I could only trust myself to deal with my problems. No one else wants to hear t

truly

h. Maybe it's not just all in your head,"

eah," I

r, looking down at me. I feel obliged to sit up also, until our faces are close enough to feel actually breath against me, and his lim

," he br

yes

edge, my hair tangled up in the faucet. Once I've fully removed myself from the side of the

have I be

nd subsequently, started dreaming about an attractive

self off, listening to the persistent hum of

and hope the same man appears to help me through another nights sleep. I somehow d

e sitting above my therapists drawing. I

el

ow yourself to fully be free, and p

always read be

before I put it down. I've had enough strange occurren

y the note w