Last night, I literally had the strangest experience. (And, when I say literally, I really do mean that because both my brother's are super-freaks about using the word "literally" in a figurative sense, so I only use it in legitimate situations). Anyway, I went to sleep and had this dream that I was very sad from a bad break-up and I was writing a blog about being very sad from said bad break-up.
When I woke up, I opened my computer and the story was there. Seriously. I wrote a story in my sleep, which is probably the most baller thing I have ever done in my entire life. Or, it's very depressing because the first fairly decent piece of writing I've done in a month happened when I was asleep. I can't decide. I'm also pretty confused because I have not been very sad from a bad break-up in a long time, so I'm not really sure where this came from. Also, I never drink gin because it smells like a combination of pine trees and death, so I don't know why unconscious-me included that. Like I said, strangest experience ever.
Anyway, here is the story that I wrote when I was asleep.
I still remember the first time I saw you. It was late May and we were at a party. I had ridiculously long hair and strawberry vodka. You were wearing some stupid hat and kept talking in a dumb accent and I thought you were an idiot.
Fifteen minutes later, I thought I loved you.
You ran through my mind that summer. I made a conscious effort not to talk about you and would only do so when I was feeling too loose from the deadly combination of summer heat and gin. I had a boyfriend; we'd been dating forever. Even then, even after we'd only met once, I knew better than to say your name out loud. Nothing had happened between us, but I knew how guilty it would sound when it came out.
When you first kissed me, everything felt right. Still, deep down, I knew you were a mistake. I think you knew it, too. When you first kissed me, I had a boyfriend.
The next day, I didn't.
The first time I woke up next to you, your arms were wrapped around me tight. I felt like you would never let me go. That didn't scare me. It should have. I didn't realize how invested I already was in you. I didn't realize I had already given you the power to define me.
We'd spent the whole night talking. Laughing. Kissing. I wanted to know everything about you. I made you tell me your favorite color, your stories from your childhood, about your brother's death. I wanted to make sure you weren't a dream.
Sometimes, I think you were.
Neither of us realized how it happened, but we both knew when it was the last time. We laid together, quietly holding hands, not speaking. I woke up before you and, as I tried to leave, your foot moved gently next to mine as you slept, connecting us once more. It was almost as if you still cared, as if you still wanted me to stay.
I've never felt more broken.
After that night, we never talked about it. About us. It was like we never happened. The time you taught me to play the guitar. The time we ran around the house, shooting each other with Nerf guns. The time you told me you could never get bored of me.
Did any of that even happen?
Now, we're having lunch together, talking about our friendship. Words come out of your mouth and I can't comprehend them because they are so disconnected from what we used to have. It seems difficult for us to even make a conversation anymore. The mouth that you're talking with cannot possibly be the same mouth that kissed my forehead, the same mouth that whispered promises to later be broken. Promises that broke my heart. Promises that broke me.
But, it is.
I've left two boyfriends for you. You probably didn't know that. Without realizing it, you ripped me apart. There were days I couldn't get out of bed because I felt so small, so insignificant in your life. You probably didn't know that either.
I know now that you were just an idea I've been holding onto. You were my first big mistake. You were my first big experience. You were my unattainable, empty dream.
And, now, I am okay. I look at you and you no longer have that gut-wrenching effect on me that defined me for so long. And, truly, I am thankful for you: thankful for our friendship, for our experiences together and for teaching me that I will always, eventually, be alright.