Are you sleeping well these days? I hope so because I don't sleep anymore. There is so much to think about now; there is no time to sleep anymore, because my brain has to handle you. I wish your belt was my fingers, underneath the loops of your jeans, pulling you towards me. That tie doesn't belong around your neck; it belongs around mine. Are you sleeping at all these days? I never did. I wake up when I think you might be standing by the wall, and you never are. Maybe I will open the door and find you on your knees, coughing up blood and apologies. Do not fidget every time you remember your hand doesn't have another to hold, because then it will become a habit and you will hate me. Do not bite your nails or look at ledges you have thought about jumping. They will become habits and you will hate me. Do not form habits for your fingers to develop since they have no throats to grab. You will hate me. I never want you to hate me, not in the way that you will. The time is 3:06 AM and I hope you still love me the way I want you to.