.oO(Sometimes I blur the edges.) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 04 April 2009: Hey, you. =) I am happy, today. Maybe it's because of the vodka last night. Maybe it's because of Tombstone and Doc Holliday's assault on my daydreams. Maybe it's because of the pre-sleep phone call. Maybe it's because of that dream... ...yeah, I'm pretty sure it was the dream. The nervous moment of recognition. The shaky hello. The embrace(s). Holding hands, running down the street, stopping only for impromptu kissing against walls. The door barely shutting before the unbuttoning of shirts. The exploration of hands on skin. The frenzied breathing. The panting, the sweating. "I love you". The release. The collapse. That song playing through the entire thing. The feeling of the entire dream - the feeling during the entire dream. I think my ribs would burst to feel that. I love how vivid my dreams can be... how I feel texture, sensation. How I could smell the whiskey and smoke in that bar. How I could taste his lips. How I fumbled on that button. The brightness of eyes. I love how vivid my dreams can be... since they are nearly always better than real life, and since they are generally all that I have. In a way it was perfect. Romantic. The entire thing is romantic, I suppose. The forbidden. The impossible. The kind of romance in chick flicks, when you just want it all to work out and you are rooting for them the entire time... and you cry when it finally happens because, well. If it can happen for them, it can happen for you. Maybe that's not how my story ends... but someday I'll have an ending to it. Somewhere. Someone. Same bursting of ribs. I'm going out tonight, and Sara might be going with me (or meeting me out, or will be still awake when I come home). I've been drinking too much, I think - but responsibly. I had a talk with the straw that broke the camel's back, and I'm not angry anymore. I was fuming mad most of yesterday - but acknowledge that he was just that, the last straw. It wasn't him that I was mad at, nor men in general. Every time that I "hate men" it's just my way of venting - it's not them that I hate, it's the fact that I allowed myself to be in positions in the past, situations in the past, that make me sensitive about some things. I love the song 'Dance Inside' by All-American Rejects... more than I should, most likely, given the things it makes me think (and given who it makes me think of). My life is a succession of amazing feelings brought on by the impossible. =) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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