Thinking and Dreaming can Make you Crazy

It's funny: the harder I try to think about something other than Ben, the more I think of him. I don't know why that keeps happening. He's quietly breaking my heart, but it's okay, because every time I see him, a little piece of me dies. I like that sensation: that feeling of falling through a chasm that goes straight to a dark, hidden, quiet place where I'm sure I can find him hiding and lurking somewhere in the shadows waiting for someone who is lost enough to be lost with him. See, I am him, and he is me, so we are one being that is pushing and pulling to survive. The more we push each other away the more we pull each other in. Physically, we're not always together, but I can't even begin to think of how many times I wake with a start in the middle of the night and have to look around my room because my thoughts haunt me and my dreams are so vivid and possessive of me that I begin to wonder if he was here watching me with his cold, staring, broken, lovely eyes, breathig into my air, standing on my shifting floor, peeking into my shaking mind, ripping at random threads from my breaking heart.