Wakeupnfuck Rebecca: Violetti

The sun is fully up now. The whiskey is gone. My fingers hurt from typing.

Did I dream about her? Yes. Always. In the dream, she’s not doing anything explicit. She’s just looking at me. That look. The one that says, “I know exactly what you are, and I’m not leaving until you admit it.” wakeupnfuck rebecca violetti

She wrote once: “I don’t want to be your muse. I want to be your emergency.” The sun is fully up now

She sits in the gray. The uncomfortable silence. The moment after the argument when you realize you were wrong. Did I dream about her

I woke up at 4:47 AM today. Not because of an alarm. Not because of some “hustle culture” bullshit. Because of her . Because Rebecca Violetti lives rent-free in the back of my skull, and at 4:47 AM, she decided to start swinging a sledgehammer.

So here’s the truth: We are all just pretending to be functional adults. Rebecca Violetti is the alarm clock we set ourselves. She’s the proof that we haven’t gone numb yet.

I realize I don’t want to wake up next to Rebecca Violetti. That would imply sleep. Comfort. Routine. No, I want to wake up because of her. I want the disruption. I want the 4:47 AM panic.