| x_charlotte_x |
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I dreamt about him last night. I ran into him again and I hugged him and I said, Do you feel alone? and when he pulled out of the hug he was crying and said, Yes. Then he said he had to leave, that he couldn't talk to me, and I begged and begged him to call me soon.
I feel like I've seen him. This is the second time he's shown up in my dreams. The first time I dreamt that I went to a party at his house, and she was there, but since she never saw me she didn't know what I looked like, and I saw him in the other room and I waited to make eye contact with him, and he looked really old and thin - and when I finally caught his eye he just looked at me and looked sad and shook his head and turned away. I can't stop thinking about him. I'm tossing and turning. I'm tired. While I'm at home I do nothing but sleep and sleep some more, and it makes me all the more tired, and I'm really exhausted right now and I can't keep my eyes open but I can't stop thinking about him. A warm body's breathing in my bed. I can't be in this state. I can't be in New Jersey and I can't be in this state of mind where my eyes are open so wide all the time to take everyone around me in. I keep thinking I'm seeing him. I need to move to somewhere where he has no idea I'd be there, and change my cell phone number and get rid of this diary and make myself invisible on Google and disappear and live in a way that I have no fear that I'll run into him at the bagel shop or at the ice cream place in the summer. There's not going to be an end to this. I need to move somewhere where no one knows me. Where no one knows about this. I've told too many people and too many people know all the details. I need to go somewhere where I don't have a history, where no one knows the men I've fucked or the ways I've stayed up at night. No one should know the things I think about when I can't sleep. It's cold and this is no time to be thinking of crickets. Not a single day or hour has gone by that I haven't thought about him. I don't know why. I need to stop. He isn't special. He isn't wonderful. He probably isn't even a good person. He probably told me more lies than I will ever, ever be aware of. I will probably never see him again and my life will probably be better for it. I will probably be happier never having spoken to him again. I will probably find a man who is better suited to me than him, and who doesn't lie to me, and who doesn't do the things he did - who's honest and giving and upstanding and wants to marry me and make me happy. It's the probablies that kill me. -Charlotte
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