passion...schmassion

Day 10147: Tell me why...

I dreamt about you last night. I dreamt that for some f.u.’d reason, we were all in school wearing disgustingly dismal drab grey uniforms of classical UK variety, and that we still weren't talking to each other. The principal wrote me a note asking me to reexamine my connection to your uncle Leo, and that for some unknown reason it was not a good thing in "polite society" to claim to have known him... even though in actuality, I really don't. The inexplicable power of dreams, so to speak…

I came to you angry and on the defensive that someone who didn’t know him could make that kind of statement. I was angry for you because I knew that he was important to you. And then I was angry at you because you were having such a great time with all your new friends and didn’t seem to care that I was going through this emotional turmoil… for you… instead of you.

Words don’t mean a thing, you said.

Let them say what they will. Actions speak louder than words. Let it go.

I railed at you. You were too calm. I yelled and I screamed about the unjustness of society. How no one took the time to look deeply at anything anymore. How they looked only at the surface and believed want they wanted to believe. Judging based on appearances and not on what really is.

You shrugged.

And I slapped you across the face before I stormed out of the room to fight a battle I knew I could not win.

I woke up angry, confused, and almost hating you. I really need to stop dreaming about you. I can control my thoughts when I’m awake, but I hate that my subconscious insists on clinging to you… I hate that you were the first thing I thought about this morning and very many mornings before. I hate that I cannot control my thoughts as well as I can control my actions. I hate that I still care about you and that I still thought about you yesterday and wondered if perhaps for a heartbeat you might have missed me at your bonfire last night.

You probably never even gave me a second thought…

Then again, I never expect that you ever would.

Tell me why it is so much harder to end the friendship than it ever was to end the relationship. Tell me why I can go through days not really thinking of you, but I haven’t been able to get through a night without dreaming of you since I told you that I didn’t think we could be friends anymore. Tell me why I felt the blood drain from my face… why I got so cold and started to shake when I got your bonfire email last week.

Tell me, because I don’t understand.

Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.