I'm still dreaming

I can feel it. I see the wires. I see the wires I severed, the wires I disconnected sparking wildly and begging to be put back. I see the wires I plugged in powerless, unable to make the connection, as I thought they would. I'm still asleep.
You always play and it's always their game.
I keep repeating it aloud: "He doesn't love me;" "He won't love me;" "He doesn't care about me;" "He just wants to use me." I'm reaching for the wire. Where is it? There are so many plugged in; there are so many just laying here. I say it louder. I hear the wire pulse like a heartbeat, my hand was so close to it the whole time. I take it in my hand, and I tug. I'm still dreaming.
I think it's the romanticism...
My head is reeling. There's a connection after all. I was connected to a fantasy. I pull at the wire, which is throbbing in my hands. The connection is stronger than I thought. Why can't I let go? I'm sleeping.
Because you're doing something you love, and I want to help you...
I'm screaming now. The disconnected wires on the floor spark and hiss, threatening burn me, threatening to self-destruct. The wires of past connections are hurting me. It's familiar. I remember. I remember pulling out these wires. I remember why I pulled them out and how long it took to do so. I'm determined to pull this one out quickly, before I'm hurt again, before I'm hurt worse. The wire throbs in my hands inhumanly, ordering me not to touch it, demanding its false connection. I pull as hard as I can, bellowing my mantras: "I won't be hurt again; "I won't be used again." Reality is fading in and out. I don't think I'm asleep anymore. I'm not sure.
You're special...you're different from others...
The wire moves. It is stubborn, reluctant to allow me reality. Its plug clings to the socket, hanging halfway out. It throbs still, and sparks fly out at me, singeing my heart. There's that pain again, brought back anew. I can't touch that wire anymore, but I know reality has shifted enough to normalize. My vision is blurred, but I know what I'm seeing. Where are those wires I tried to sever earlier? I didn't cut all the way through, did I? I feel around blindly, reaching for a memory wire, but I can't find a good one. I'm still dreaming.
I just like her more. We're still friends...
I turn around, and there are his blue eyes; there is his smile. Reality is here, but I am still dreaming. What was I thinking, trying to make that new connection? I forgot what I'd leave behind. I find that wire I was searching for, and the connection is still there, and it's real...it's not what I thought I'd want, but it's there, and it's real. I repair it, and my heart soars again to hear his voice. But I'm still dreaming.
And the man I marry is going to be gentle and kind; he'll have hands as big as dinner plates and arms that reach all the way around me.
I can't touch that false connection yet. It's still throbbing too violently, it'll hurt me too much. I leave it there, half-bemused, as though I'm saving it as an opportunity for later. My heart hurts at that thought. There are his blue eyes again, there is that sadness I know he'd feel if I ever did what I thought. Wires lay all around me, sparking and mocking me with past misdoings. I am sad, though I am mostly repaired. I take the false connection wire in my hand, and each throb makes me feel more shame. Why can't I pull it out? I'm still dreaming. Please wake up...you know reality...you know it's sad, but it's real...please wake up. Wake up.
Wake up.

If you want me for anything, you'll have to love me more than I love you. And that will require some effort on your part. I won't be hurt again.

Wake up.