I was forced to talk to
her, today, about what we had gone through.
She denied that she had broken my heart, and
I denied that I had cried. She could tell we were both lying.
I spent the rest of the day navel gazing, which I do an awful lot, and praying that she was doing the same, until I got home around 3:30. Then I slept until around 8:00.
After we splintered, that unwillingly became a ritual for me, sleeping for hours in the afternoon. I hate it. I sleep all day, and it keeps me up all night.
Before we splintered, I slept beautifully and feverishly. She made up all my dreams. She was my dream girl, as clichéd as it is.
She still is.