I dreamt you became a zombie, and we had to kill you.
A bunch of us weighing you down, trying to kill you, slicing your forehead and your stomach. I used a blade, just a simple blade without any handle, just the blade itself. Cutting you up while cutting myself is probably the best analogy for our relationship. Dug deeper, and deeper, watching the blood squirt and the flesh slice open as you grew weaker, I couldn’t help but weep. Weeping in the most animalistic, primitive manner where the pain came from the centre of my chest and reached out from my heart. Watched them attach mini electircal wires inside of your exposed belly so they could make you explode into a million pieces was surreal and heart-wrenching.
Then I ended up with your best mate, but the entire time I kept thinking of you. Oddly, your best mate was him, the other You in my life thus far. Guess I really wanted to feel like I was the one who was emotionally detached in the relationship, who did not truly want something out of it, who had someone else on my mind. While for you, I wanted a real reason for why it would not work out, while also reminding myself of the pain I went through trying to make things work.
Hopefully the next time I meet Him, it’ll be a happy ending.