So yeah. It's over. Two years, officially, 100%, completely and totally, absolutely, finito, done. Ouch, you know? Talk about stinging.
We had matching computers, matching cars, matching lives. Or so I thought.
I went out self-medicating last night, and stumbled in last night courtesy of my taxi Kevin sometime after 2.
I always have lucid dreams, always. And I always remember them. This morning when I woke up, the first thing I thought was, "That motherfucker." I was seething with anger and hate, it was radiating through my pores (somewhat like the alcohol was). And I was angry because of my dream.
I dreamed that my beloved had found another woman and that was the real reason he was leaving behind like yesterday's newspaper. This woman, she was very short and asian, also kept a blog and I had read it. She purposefully went after him, ruthlessly, knowing that he had a girlfriend. I got so mad I ripped some photos up and stomped around his apartment throwing shit.
So I woke up angry at him and this unknown woman (perhaps a metaphor for med school or Arizona?). I hate waking up angry after hateful dreams.
But maybe anger is better than pure sadness.