I’ve been having dreams.
Mostly about Fuckhead.
In my dreams we talk. I’ve been asking him a lot of questions but I always wake up before I can ask him the one question to which I want to know the answer to: Do you miss me?
Last night was the worst of all. In my dream, he was married to the she beast and they had just had a baby. I cried (in my dream) and I cried and I screamed and I screamed. It wasn’t a fun night. That’s absolutely the last time I allow myself to fall asleep without some kind of artificial somnial enhancement to block such dreams from my head – Ambien being my personal drug of choice.
I assure you, this isn't some deep seated unconcsious desire for some kind of cinema-esque reunification. I don’t want him back. I don’t. I promise. I don’t want a pot smoking, un-motivated, emotionally dependent man still attempting to relive his frat boy glory days.
But I do miss being happy and completely in love – that kind of love that you read about, that you hear about, the kind of stuff that inspires tales such as “The Notebook” – emotions that you never thought possible until experiencing them; that love the brings along with it the possibility of all things and the strength to handle anything life throws into your collective paths.
I had that and it's dissapation has left quite a large hole.
Frankly, it's probably best that I don’t sleep long enough to hear the answer to that one question.
P.S. I'm thinking about starting to password again - what do you think? I just hate that the more noteable ex's in my life have access to these pages and I find myself holding back more often than I'd like to admit. So what's your opinion? Passoword or start a new blog all together?
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