Darlings I promise, if anything had happened in the last few days that was blogworthy, I'd have blogged it, but I swear to you, not a lick of it was. I'm only blogging now because I was starting to feel rather awkward. Like I'd go to sleep feeling like I'd forgotten something, checking lights && the house && things of the nature. I guess this really is my therapy.

Meant to tell you all the other day that I had this terrible waking dream. It wasn't a daydream, because daydreams have always given me the impression of being kind of flimsy and unrealistic. You know, a little girl fantasizing about whats going to happen the next time she sees the boy she likes, thats a daydream. This wasn't that. This was a waking dream. A waking nightmare I should say. It was terrifying. It was horrible. It tore my heart out of my chest and put it on a stand for me to stare at. Honestly. I cried so hard. And it made me realize a lot. And what makes it so scary, is that it was so simple. No monsters. No aliens. No natural disasters. No serial killers. No sci-fi - "I've come back in time to tell you you're going to die," type madness. Just one death, one completely possible death. Deaths like the one in this dream happen everyday. Everyday somebody lives the nightmare, and thats what makes it so heartbreaking.

I had a dream that Bruce died.

A simple car accident. A car accident involving an ex boyfriend scares me so much that I'm on the verge of tears typing this right now. Scares me so much that I'm about to spend multiple paragraphs discussing it, and its implications, with you. My imagination, in vivid detail, went passed the cold, numb shock of hearing he was dead, passed the blurred days of crying, and not crying, and not eating, and not speaking, the days of forcing myself to get out of bed, and continue breathing, and putting one step in front of the other. It fast forwarded straight to the funeral. It fast forwarded to his girlfriend of the moment. She was upset. She had every right to be. She told me I had nerve. Showing up at his funeral, crying and carrying on the way I was. After the way I'd treated him, after the way I'd used him and left him, after that, I must have a strong bone of audacity in my body to show my face here, to cry this way here. She told me I couldnt've loved him half as much as anyone else there. Or I'd have proved such when he was living. And honestly? This is the part that scares me, because in response to her, I said the realest shit, the most truthful shit, I've ever allowed myself to say, or allowed myself to think when it comes to Bruce.

"Get the fuck out of my face. You couldn'tve have loved him as much as I loved him. You don't know how to love as much as I loved him. I don't know how to love as much as I loved him. All I know is that I'm done now. This is as much it for me as it is for him, because I don't know anything about the world without him in it."

Because I Don't Know Anything About The World Without Him In It.

Do you know how scary that is? When I came back to myself, left that terrible place where my heart was open and exposed, the place where Bruce was gone, when I came back I found myself crying. And I couldn't stop, I just couldn't. I couldn't breathe. It was terrible.

I do love him. I hope there's nothing I've said that makes you think I don't. Honestly, Nikki Jean said it best "I see myself in your ugliness, so I can't leave you - You're a perfect mess." He's the most irritating parts of myself, and I can't help but love him, because his insanity is one of the only things in this world that keeps me steady. Knowing that he's going to do what he's going to do is just as much as safety net for me as knowing the moon still revolves around the Earth that revolves around the sun. But I refuse to believe that I gave my heart away at 14 and I haven't gotten it back yet. I refuse to believe that there's nothing else out there for me. If he's a reflection of me, then why isn't the changing as I change? Why isn't he getting better? Why does he seem to just be getting worse? I don't want that. He's the most irritating parts of myself. A 7 year old spoiled brat trapped inside the body of a grown man, and yes I know that he'd do anything for me, as I'd do anything for him, because even though I say I refuse to chase after him, I'm going to tell Elmo to tell him to call me later, because I can't not hear his voice after a dream like that. I have to know he's okay. Even if he does want to be a smart ass and piss me off.

I think I'm done with that now.

There's internet at my house again, thank the Lord God Almighty, because I was beginning to go insane. Tomorrow's my day off, thank the Lord God Almighty, because I was beginning to go insane. I think this kid Chase at work likes me, honestly trying to lay off dudes at work, so I'll just let that go. The other ones in Florida till Friday. He called me last night, but I missed it. Oh shit, where's my phone? -goes to find it. And of course he called me again, twice, like two hours ago. Not knowing where my phone is will get me every time. He probably thinks I'm ignoring him, that I decided I don't like him anymore or something, poor darling. -Checks the voicemail.

G'night.

-A.