It felt infinitely sad, there was this air of longing and remorse and I felt tears well up because I could feel that he loved me and was sorry. I was sorry too, and I knew that he felt this way about me, but we would still not be together. My heart ached, and funny how dreams linger, but my heart still aches now when I write this. Not for Kirk, the character, but how a man felt for a woman and vice versa. I'm a lonely person again.

When I am lonely or sad, my writing tends to improve, my ideas tend to become deeper because I have so much time to think, and no joy to distract me. My dreams become vivid and real, and much more bizarre, despite how bizarre they are anyway. I become a walking giant imagination. My fantasy life becomes more desireable than my real life, my dreams more realistic and life-like. My waking "real" life becomes a chore, a bunch of motions that I have to go through everyday, with nothing really to look forward to coming home to.

I work. I come home and feed my cats. I watch some tv and have dinner. I go to bed. I wake up, go to work, go to my second job, feed my cats watch tv, go to a rehearsal, go to bed again. There is nothing in bed to look forward to but my dreams. There is nothing to look forward to in waking up except coming back home again, to go to the empty bed and dream again.

It's so much easier for Chris. He is living with his parents, which means he comes home to conversation, they want to go for dinner with him, his Uncles are in town, he has distraction. I come home to nothing. My cats fight more these days. I have all the time in the world to lie there feeling how empty the bed is, and how quiet my apartment is.

I feel so bleak. So unimportant. I'm just there.