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Apparently, I almost exclusively remember to write in this thing when I have been drinking. And being as my health prohibits me from drinking much, I barely update anymore.

But look at me, writing completely sober. Who’d have guessed? Miracles never cease. The trouble is, when I’m sober I never feel anything I have to say is all that important.

I’ve got so much (far too much) on my plate, so this seems like the last thing I need to be spending time on most days.


****

You came to me in my sleep last night. I can actively push you away when I’m awake, but in my sleep, my defenses are down. In my sleep I allow myself to remember what you looked like. I don’t know that I could remember your voice after so many years. Even in my dreams, I can’t recall that - not that we speak in my dreams. Even in my dreams, when we inhabit the same space, I carefully avoid you. Even in my dreams I know, instinctively, to go through her. I see you and I seek her out. Even in my dreams I realize that we could never really be in eachother’s lives again, but I still wish you the best, and if going through her allows me a tiny glimpse into your life, I’ll settle for it.

These are the first tears I’ve allowed myself to spill over this in a very long time.

3:10 p.m. - 2019-04-13

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