I know it must be confusing to read what I say when I use pronouns, but he is the one who I cannot name - and I am not referring to Voldemort. Consider it a "trigger". Using his name would cause me to feel sour which would provoke the ultimate mental down-hill snowball effect. Kind of like the music I can no longer listen to or the items I have buried deep within my wardrobe to avoid accidentally seeing. For some reason this phenomenon brings the song Art of War by Anberlin to my mind, particularly where it says, "There are songs I'll never write because of you walking out of my life".
And I had a dream about him last night where we were awkwardly sitting in one of those vans with three rows of seats and he, being in the row behind me, sneaked his hand up into mine as if to say, "Everything is okay. I still love you, and I always will, and we're going to be together again."
Of course a dream like such only made me think of all the reasons that could never be true whilst in the shower today. It is like my subconscious treated me with a beautiful fantasy only for my conscious mind to come forth and list every flaw in it, like a non-fiction critic reading a book with enough plot holes to categorize it alongside a Dr. Seuss novella.
I regret that my blogs cannot be cheerful and positive like Wisp's. Not cheerful and positive, I suppose, but just anything that is not discussing how miserable I am. It makes me feel pretty pathetic, which is funny because earlier today my mother said that she thinks I am getting better.
So to lighten this up a little, I'll say that I did shower and take my medicine today. Yesterday I learned how to make hamburgers on a George Foreman my mother picked up at a garage sale for me to take to college. Peanut has decided to adopt squeaking as a form of communication. I bought a case of Pepsi. And I'm enjoying myself on Harvest Moon: Magical Melody, where I now have 4 chickens (Chester, Sanders, Nugget, and Church), 2 calves (Lolita and Estella), one lamb (Guinevere), and a foal that just grew up named Khaleesi. I can't wait to learn how to ride Khaleesi tomorrow and frolic all about the village. I wish the horses could be different colors, though, and not all just brown. Rawr.
I'm a little confused - ex is creepy stalker, or the other guy I advocated you pushing down stairs?
ReplyDeleteAnd if I'm cheerful and positive, then some people must be absolutely out of their minds with giddiness...
Yes, it does get better. Eventually, after a very long hard time, you'll get around to where I am now. I'll probably be right back where you are, but at the moment that's irrelevant. The relevant point is, it DOES get better, it just takes a very long time. Don't forget, fish are always deadest just before dawn. :)