How to Breed Betta Fish

I renewed this domain last night, took melatonin, and proceeded to sleep for a little longer than a normal amount of time which I took as a good sign, had a dream about someone who texted me, and woke up to a call about work.

It’s ok. I have a feeling it’s going to be an ok day.

I greet this day with hope, vigor and strength. This day holds new opportunities that I look forward to exploring.

Me, slowly. My typing is much slower now. I don’t know if I ever want to talk about what happened, maybe somehow I can make it so that it never happened.

I have to call my lawyer today, I have to… I trailed off, I’m not ready for this.

I don’t know if I wan to talk about my dreams today, they were really complicated and contextual, it’s a lot to explain. But I guess that’s why I should try.

Footnotes will help.

It was Halloween.

We, one of My (capitalized a pronoun, I have to get back to work after this, I think that’s where I’m going to concentrate today) girlfriends1, and her recently gotten rid of fuckboy were in the mall. I believe his daughter was wandering around, always just out of eyeline and earshot, as she always was. There were things before and after this, but I remember going down into the half floor display inside a department store stairway2, and settling on some shaggy pillows done in Halloween colors, which for some reason now go beyond the normal orange and black and span black, white, green, purple, and finally orange3.

The fuckboy and I were lounging into the shaggy pillows, talking. We always talk easily when it’s just he and I, when she comes in she has such a front about her that it’s tough to talk around. Is she like that with all men? Why?

Eventually, we went back to his house, even with his daughter, who was wearing a weird black and pink glitter crop top and legging set, and there was a bit of a party. Our good friends were there (the Black ones, it had to be said) but I can’t name who for sure as my girlfriend and I have different good friends.

Everyone was watching a movie in the living room, I went out and sat on a table in the kitchen4 While there, I got a call from a phone – was it the phone in the wall? probably not – and it was the birthday fuckboy, basically looking for his birthday fuck. I was about to explain this but it needs no explanation.

As always, my girlfriend had pressured me to agree, and then vanished, as though some random dude’s dick was something I’d want. I can relate, I will immediately stop doing this to anyone.

Another group of Latina girls came in, one looking remarkably like a much younger version of our hot Puerto Rican Scorpio friend. Her friends said it was also her birthday, and that she was a virgin, and set to lose her virginity before midnight. Of course, this disgustingly got birthday fuckboy’s attention, and I’m ashamed at myself that I wasn’t vocally outraged, but instead felt relieved that the pressure was off me.

He went outside to the parking lot, they were waiting outside, her in a white tank top and birthday tiara (I shouldn’t have to explain this to anyone). My girlfriend, the person who threw the whole party, was of course nowhere to be found.

His daughter, in the same weird outfit, was holding the door for him.

1. I was going to go about explaining who she was in this footnote, but I realized there is no need to explain things to myself. The Haitian one. The one who is constantly terrible to me, and the one that I am afraid that I am most like. 2. I believe this is the mall that was closest to me when I was growing up, a little too young to be out in the Mallrats era. 3. I object. 4. It occurs to me that the layout was not of the apartment that she and this particular fuckboy have shared, but rather that of the previous fuckboy. The friend that I was speaking to in the kitchen was one that I would have been speaking to in either kitchen.

Such a disturbing dream, mostly because it’s not so disturbing. Is this really just how we’ve been living? Like cockroaches?

She texted me last night while I was sleeping.

If I am pregnant right now, it could be one of 4 men. I should be disturbed.

Halloween is *my* fuckboy’s birthday, not her’s.

Does it fucking matter?

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