Confessions Of A Broken Record Player

In those few pure moments before I go to sleep, when I am exposed to my innermost thoughts and fantasies, I cry from all the hurt I feel. The middle of the night is the saddest time of any day. It forces me to reminisce the sad times and - even worse - the happy times. Playing the experiences back through my mind like a broken record player, reopening the wounds that I am so desperately trying to heal.
And then, when my mind starts to merge together random pieces of information from the previous day, I forget about the hurt and I start dreaming.
For many people who want to forget the world, this is a state of bliss. Dreams are a safe way to temporarily escape from the life you have - you can achieve the impossible. You can climb mountains, fly, make friends with celebrities and beat up the people that hurt you. And when you wake up, all is forgotten.

Not for me.

When I finally escape from those memories and fears deep-rooted in my mind, I face the nightmares.
Have you ever experienced a dream where the people you love hurt you; where you are ridiculed, deceived and abandoned by those that you trusted with all your heart?
Where every last trace of hope has been violated by your imagination, and every morning you have to find it again?

I am so tired of having to find my hope again.