Sometimes, my heart mimics a love song. Others, it screams pessimistic thoughts like no other. It's strange the way things work out, I guess.
Have you heard that dreams always mean something? Maybe the pessimistic side of me encouraged my dream the other night. It was heartbreaking.
In the dream, he had just gotten home. At first, everything was wonderful. We were getting back to our normal routine of hanging out, and the way I like to think of it- back to being in love.
Then, him and I are going on a trip with a group. It turns out he has two other girlfriends that are also there. He's very open about it, and basically thinks he's the stuff. Now, let me point out this is nothing like the real him. I couldn't actually imagine this happening. Anyways, back to the dream.
In the beginning, I'm going along with it because I just can't fathom what is going on exactly. Then , I demand him to choose. Of course, I assume he'll choose me. I mean, why wouldn't he? But I'm sure you can guess what happened next- He chooses another girl.
My eyes begin to tear up, "What?" I stand there in silence for what seems like the longest minute of my entire life while I watch the two of them together with happiness radiating from their bodies.
"What about everything you said? You loved me, you wanted to marry me some day, you were so lucky to have me, I was perfect. What about all that?" I said, then a smile came across his face like it took no effort to speak the words he said next, "I lied."
I could feel those words stabbing me in the heart. I had never experience emotional pain like I had felt, and it was all just a dream.
For the rest of the day, the dream was all I thought about. It was long, and vivid.
Like I mentioned above, I really don't see this happening, but It still hurt. I just wish he was home now, because then I know I wouldn't have thoughts like these. Only forty-five more days, and he's home.
It's already been longer than that since the last time I saw him, and in only seven more days we will have been together for six months.