Short Stories & Compositions

Space

    I often dream of being in space. The dreams seem so vivid and lifelike. I can feel myself float through the void. It feels real. I wish it were. Space is better. Free of the worries and anxieties of the real world. I look down at Earth, and it gazes back up at me. I wonder if perhaps someone is looking at the night sky. Inadvertently staring straight at me. I find comfort in the fact that they would never know. Never see my huddled form as I orbit the only world I've ever known. They wouldn't know that/ tears are coming out of my eyes now. The tears don't fall. Instead they stay as liquid bubbles, pressed against my face. I'm running out of oxygen that I never had. My lungs spasm as I choke and gasp. It burns. My chest feels as though it has erupted in flames and I want the sweet release, but it doesn't come. I sit up and suck in a deep breath. The clock on my nightstand reads 4 AM and I exhale. I remember where I am. I remember who I am. The comfort is gone now and I am once again filled with despair. I sob. This time the tears do fall. They stream down my face leaving streaks in their path. I slump against my pillow and try to fall back asleep. However, I already know sleep won't come. I will try to pretend that I'm okay. That I'm not filled with a sickness that can't be cured with flowers or 'Get Well' cards. I will continue to pretend until the next time I dream of space. Where I know I won't have to.