It was just a dream. These experiences of tears and fears. This exhausting moment as well. I whisper this wish over and over, even when I haven't breathed a word. Sometimes the dreams can be beautiful, but seldom do they stay so. Every inhale is a struggle despite there being no constriction. My exhale is letting go of this thick, dark, curling memory of what just was. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. I hope the next one will be better, just as I had hoped for the last.