Meant to post yesterday, but have been very stressed out of late. I long for the end of the teaching term, which will bring with it the end of a host of other headaches that I have to deal with at the moment, and I’m really feeling the pressure.
Yesterday was a bad day. I hate bad days. That it was a bad day is owing not so much to the amount of work I have before me or the number of matters that require my immediate attention, but because shortly before awaking on Thursday morning I had a dream about L.
I hate it when I dream about L. It always makes me chronically depressed.
I have not had any contact with L. for nearly a year and a half, yet she still haunts me occasionally, disturbing my sleep and robbing my waking hours of all peace of mind.
The most ironic aspect of this pathetic situation is that I know in my heart of hearts that she is not the right woman for me — never has been and never will be. If, per impossibile, I were ever to end up with her, it would be the END OF MY LIFE.
So why in God’s name do I feel so morose, wretched and miserable whenever she appears in my dreams?
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