7 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 ~ dnf

•epilouge•

The moon settled last night.
It's light
disappeared.

Swallowed by the forest
and hidden in the trees.
The lonely sky searched
for a sliver of moonlight,
but none
was to be found.

His light
disappeared.
His star
stopped shining.
His leaves
stopped growing
and his limbs
were cut down.

He is gone
and no longer with us.

His lungs gave out
and his veins stopped regulating blood
to the heart.
His body
was stone cold
when I woke up.

I knew
this was going to happen.
I knew
he'd never last,
but I never knew
it'd be this fast.

I don't know who reads this journal,
but this is not George.

I found this on his nightstand last night.
I read it.
All of the pages.
I was so saddened
when I realized that everything written,
was all false.

To who however is reading this,
it's Dream,
and all the previous pages,
George wrote them.

But they're fake.

Every single
one of them.

I was never sick.
I was never put in that hospital bed.
I was never
ever
sentenced
seven days.

The characters are real,
but the stories
are fake.

The two of us
never went through everything in this journal.
Everything he wrote about never happened.

You see,
George was sick.

So very sick
and it was him,
who was put in the hospital.
Him,
that suffered all that pain.
It was him,
who I had
seven days
left to spend with.

I was never as sick as he wrote me to be.
In fact,
i'm so healthy.
So very healthy
that I wish to not be.

George was so extremely sick,
that he believed
he was not.

I never actually knew
how many days I had left with him.
There was never an exact estimate.
It just happened to be seven days.

The doctor said he had about
a week or two.
But that was it.
I think that's where everything
got hazy.

Where his brain
misinterpreted
information.

George was delusional.
His mind was not right
and he suffered each and every day.
He wrote me as the sick one
instead of himself.

When he heard he had seven days left to live,
he started writing his own story.
A completely different one
from his actual,
real life story.

It became so bad,
he couldn't recognize what was real
and what was fake.

I tried to remind him
almost everyday,
that he was sick.

Every time I told him he was sick,
he never listened.
He ignored the fact
that he was sick.

I don't exactly know why,
but I think he was afraid of dying.
He was afraid of leaving me
and that is why
he wrote in the journal.

To see if maybe
if he wrote it,
he'd believe it.

And he did.

George actually believed
that I was dying.
But I never was.

I never did catch him writing in this, ever.
I think he did it
at the end of the day
when I was asleep.
And I see why
he hid it from me,
because it's fake.

This is not our story.

He was sick
and I was not.

I cried every night
because I didn't want him to leave me.