the never ending story of you know who
@ 8:06 p.m.
god i haven't written in forever, and i'm only really here because i had a dream about him. a-fucking-gain. it kind of pisses me off how my brain likes to play these tricks on me, like i wont think about him, i'll get over him, he'll mean nothing to me, and i'll have this CRAZY EUPHORIC LIKE dream, and it's like WTF? WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? and then of course, during the days i used to be obssessive and thinking about it nonstop, hoping, and wishing, of course on those nights i don't dream about him at all.
i'm talking of course about jeff. who the fuck else could it be?
and i'm pissed off at this dream so much because i think i've finally and pretty much accepted that i'll never try to reach out to him again and that we'll never be together, and i'm happy with c, and of course i have this fuckihg dream. he was so genuine, so classy, so smart, so charming, so tender, he was the perfect guy that i dreamed up and i have always believed it to be him, i think the terrible part is that he's probbaly nothing like that in ilfe (or maybei have to say this to convince myself), but i'm pretty sure that i have poisoned the real jeff with this dream version that i dreamed up. and he's so goddamn perfect. so goddamn great. and we have sex. i have never ever had sex with him before in my dreams. so it really pisses me off that i get this when i don't want it. but i suppose the sex wasn't even what made him so charming. at one point this girl came up to us. i had concluded in my dream self that this was the girl he dated in japan whom he almost married. and it's so weird but i remember what she looked like. that's crazy because i hardly ever remember faces. almost never. but i remember her face. probably it's because she was crying with such sadness, that i couldn't help but kind of think now if that girl was really me. well, she came up to me and they spoke in japanese together. jeff and her. and it was weird, because i can't understand much japanese, but i knew what they were saying. he was holding me, so she asked is that her, and he said very disctinctly, yes she's the one [that i dumped you for]. and they exchange a few other words, and then he turns to me, he's taller than me (not even true in real life), so he lowers his head down, and i look up. and he lowers his head some more, looks at me tenderly, kisse me tenderly, and when it's done, i see her devastated face, her tears trailing down the side of her cheeks. i had never seen anyone so sad. and as much as i felt that, i felt how happy i was in my heart. but i could very clearly feel how glad i was that HE PICKED ME.
Actually i'm pretty sure it was the sweetest dream i've ever had. ever since i've watched inception i've been wondering what's real or not. as convinced as i am about what's real and what's a dream, i guess i just want to believe and that i wished it was the oppsite way. and i keep wondering to myself why can't it be that way? i want to believe that the reason we can't remember reality in dream is because the reality doesn't matter because the dream is what's real. why does our reality have to be choosen just because it's the constant one, the one that makes sense. isn't dreams funner? isn't it better? there are no limits in our dreams, we can do wahtever we want. isn't that what should be real?
i am just dreaming and talking out of my ass of course. because now that i now longer feel how i did in that dream, i just resent myself for showing me fake dreams, dreams that i don't care to have anymore because i have moved on. it's like i like to torture myself. it's not like anything has changed! god i wonder what fucking jeff does when he has a spurt of dream like this. maybe he's lucky that he doesn't have much dreams. in fact, i remember him telling me once that he doesn't have dreams that he can remember very often. what a fucking lucky bastard. he's so lucky that he doesn't wake up with a brainful of fanciful dreams of what could be and what ifs. i know i could certainly do without these, as if i'm not confused enough already. i don't know whether to laugh or curse myself sometimes. that moment that i woke up i could feel how i felt in that dream, but i was already awake to know it was a fucking dream.
i'm so sick of the constant plaguing. i don't even know what he's htinking anymore. i don't know HIM anymore, yet i can't stop obsessing. even when i stop thikning about him, i'm dreaming about him. what the fuck am i trying to accomplish? i mean absolutely nothing to him anymore, and it gets me mad the more i think about this because it's not as if he does this to himself. it's not as if he finally spared an hour of his life to email me. it's not like he's shown any hint of thinking about even talking to me.
-- but tragically i know it's for the better. if he starts emailing me, i'm going to be waiting, checking my email every day to see if he finally replied yet. and i'm going to be one of those nagging people emailing him to ask if he's okay? is he busy? why haven't you written yet? maybe he's saving both of us grief. maybe he knows that he could only spare an hour of his life, not an hour a week for me.
he just doesn't care about me that much. or he cares so much that he knows better than to write me. (because that's basically how jeff has always shown how he cares about me - by doing something contradictory like that)