I didn’t come straight here, and right now I can’t specifically remember any of my dreams… I feel myself almost refuse to dig for them, I have odd feelings about recording dreams these days. Half of me doesn’t want to do it anymore because it takes away time from the narrative that I need to explore – is it because I write (I wrote down right) narrative for dreams that I can’t interact with, and my conscious narrative isn’t allowed to interact with it? I need a better mechanism, maybe the block quotes have to go.

I like them, though.

My eyes get tired reading blocks and blocks of text. Not tired, but bored. My ex sends out phone killing epics of gibberish texts, with no line breaks, punctuation, and not much of a point. For a man who speak so poorly, he also can’t write and that’s a shame.

I just realized that I refer to my ex, and there are multiple exes (I still have to write that email, and I really, really want to now). I really don’t care to keep them separate in my writing anymore, they can just be a giant blob of “ex” and that disgusting (ok, that’s a strong word to use about some of them) blob can just sit like a melting puddle of hot green jello on the pavement that is my past – I’m headed forward.

I imagine the way jello melts in the hot sun at barbecues… that’s how old I am. Jello Jigglers years old.

Not as old as this playlist, tbh.

I (realize my coffee is getting dangerously close to done, I’m ridiculously fidgety today, and I did not get into any main point even though I intended to… not that it matters, my thoughts are still mine even if they don’t end up here) keep having dreams about losing my money, people stealing my money, getting robbed, and I realize that my ex (the one for whom disgusting is not a strong enough word… even though he is still the most beautiful man I have ever seen, which at this point only makes him more repulsive to me, his face is a lie of beauty, and absolute insult to aesthetics, it reminds me of leatherface, a hideous monster stuffed in the skin of a perfect angel) still hasn’t settled on the split for the proceeds on our property sale.

And that this boy knows far too much about my business for a man who gets so angry…

I just broke off and sent him a text. I need to discuss this with him.

I remember when my steaming pile of shit ex and I moved in, and he accused me of keeping things from him, not trusting him, not being open to a relationship, and basically being closed off and paranoid because I wouldn’t give him my bank account info and pool resources with him and “the household”. Like a dumbass 19 year old, I fell for it.

I could spend years, I have, describing the acid that I feel etching my ribs when I think of this.

I’m never, never, never, as the acid drips down like moisture collecting on the walls of the mineral caves of Kentucky, going to fall for that again.

I was going to talk about something else, but that’s where it went.

And I think that’s fine.