I dreamt of you last night, and it was not a pleasant dream.
I dreamt of you, and I remembered much that I had not known I had forgotten.
I dreamt of you, and it was a dream that might have happened, all those years past; a dream where we all behaved as we were used to behave; where you were everything you were, and I was everything I was, or as little.
I dreamt you did as you always did; tore my dreams to shreds; drove my confidence to tears; belittled, befuddled, betrayed. I dreamt I did as I always did; let you do it all, uncomplainingly.
And I dreamt I ran home to my loneliness; and found succour in imaginary worlds, and comfort inside my own head, as I do even now.
Perhaps if I had been made of sterner stuff, I would have found in the ridicule some strength to carry me through; but all I got from you were doubt and insecurity, and an idea that I was unworthy of anyone's affection, attention, respect.
Last night I found something I'd once written; crude, unpolished, arrogant. Confident. And I wondered, Why, where did I go?
Last night I dreamt of you - you cruel coward; you bully; you condescending, insensitive, foul-mouthed excuse for a human being.
I was a miserable child in school, I tell people. I'd forgotten exactly how miserable I was.
And you were a reason. About time I acknowledged it.
I dreamt of you, and I remembered much that I had not known I had forgotten.
I dreamt of you, and it was a dream that might have happened, all those years past; a dream where we all behaved as we were used to behave; where you were everything you were, and I was everything I was, or as little.
I dreamt you did as you always did; tore my dreams to shreds; drove my confidence to tears; belittled, befuddled, betrayed. I dreamt I did as I always did; let you do it all, uncomplainingly.
And I dreamt I ran home to my loneliness; and found succour in imaginary worlds, and comfort inside my own head, as I do even now.
Perhaps if I had been made of sterner stuff, I would have found in the ridicule some strength to carry me through; but all I got from you were doubt and insecurity, and an idea that I was unworthy of anyone's affection, attention, respect.
Last night I found something I'd once written; crude, unpolished, arrogant. Confident. And I wondered, Why, where did I go?
Last night I dreamt of you - you cruel coward; you bully; you condescending, insensitive, foul-mouthed excuse for a human being.
I was a miserable child in school, I tell people. I'd forgotten exactly how miserable I was.
And you were a reason. About time I acknowledged it.
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