I was so tired last night, but I couldn’t sleep. I compulsively looked at her profile. Neurosis.
She was in Florida. She was seeking attention with pictures of watered down liquor in February, you said you were worried and asked “are you ok baby?” I keep looking at her face and trying to figure out what was in it that replaced me. You knew her in person, maybe it was something outside of the filtered realities that I’ll never understand. Maybe you always thought about her in the back of your mind, bringing you to connect with her all of these years later. Poignant feelings grow knowing that you searched for this person. You turned to her. You said you didn’t care about me and that you thought it was best if we broke up. You took it back, maybe she didn’t want the same thing. Not in real life, anyways. Every time you left me or came home late, you did to talk to her, be with her. While I was alone and wondering what I did to deserve it this time. I lost you back in March.
Racing thoughts of who you surrounded yourself with last night. Alcohol running through your veins, promises disappearing and fading into black as the night grows later. No reassurance, nothing came my way. I fell asleep defeated. I told myself to woman up, listen to my head.
My dream took place at the old 1930’s cottage I lived in on Nassau Street. It was bigger and had a game room with a pool table, everything was falling apart, though. Roots covered it’s wooden sides, it’s foundation leaning to one side, walls yellowed with age. “It’s not so bad”, I turned to you and said. “I’m not staying here”, you replied. Unable to leave through the front door, we exited through a window on the side of the house. It began to crumble, pieces of wood falling slowly to the ground. You walked off into the wilderness that surrounded us, and now I was alone. Crocodiles swam around me on my way back home, I eluded them with stones thrown into the water that submerged them, light taps on their side-bellies with my bare feet. I made it out. Tired and dirty, but ok.