And it came to me then, that every plan is a tiny prayer to Father Time.

Is it bad to feel like I deserve better than this?
Is it wrong to retort that I was taught to fight tooth and nail for everything I thought I deserved when someone tells me to just let the universe unfold itself for me?
I don't want forgiveness, I want apologies.  I don't want to be given a chance, I want to earn my opportunities with sweat and blood.
I'm lying in bed wondering where it all went wrong.  Wondering where the dreams ended and the night terrors began.  Where the needing to be with someone arose out of an irrational fear of an empty bed and arms outstretched for the ghost of a person not there.
Wondering where the faith turned into doubt, and where the hope turned into bitterness.
It's two a.m., and I can't sleep.  Sleep doesn't come easy these days.  And when it does come, it doesn't stay.  If I was six I'd be hiding with my head under the covers because it's a well-known law of childhood that monsters can't get you that way.  My nights are filled with bad dreams and sudden awakenings.
I regret almost this whole year I've lived on the island.  I won't be sorry to leave it.