Sunday, February 19, 2006

Screaming and Dreaming

Okay, not screaming, but fighting. Oh, the fighting...with Mr. B...again...some more. I've become one of those girls who is constantly fighting with her boyfriend, and her friends don't understand why she puts up with it. I don't entirely get it either. No, I do get it; sometimes Mr. B is amazing and very sweet and romantic. But during last night's fight...oh, I still cannot believe what he said to me, and I'm loathe to print it.

Basically, he accused me of lying about something important, and in doing so, broke my heart. I squeaked out between sobs, instant tears streaming down my face.

He went on to tell me I was probably telling the truth, but he could never really be sure because he wasn't there and he hasn't known me long enough to trust what I say. But I shouldn't be insulted by that because he doesn't even trust his mother. He later added that he trusts me to make good choices and not do anything to hurt him, but he doesn't trust me enough to believe whatever I say, and that I'm crazy and "fucked up" to expect him to. He also said I was "on my high horse" about my virtue, like I thought I was "the Virgin Mary Immaculate." Wow. Then he got mad that I was obsessing about his accusation, when that wasn't the point of his argument anyway. The point was that he felt pressured to spend every Saturday with me and didn't like the pressure. Well, he definitely won't have to worry about me asking him to hang out any time soon. I wonder if that was the point. Right now Mr. B stands for "Mr. Big Dumb Boyfriend." Whatever.

Last night, I had a dream that I was putting on a play, and everything was going wrong. I wasn't an actor in the play. I was a stage manager or something, running around trying to keep this calamity of a play going. At one point a pitcher of water was spilled on the stage and me. I was trying to sneak out of the auditorium. Then, a child acting on the stage broke character. Instead of addressing a line to the actors on stage, the little blonde looked at me and said, "What do you think, Erin?" The spotlight operator turned the spot on me, and the audience turned to look at me. Then I began to sing:

"It happens.
Sometimes you lose track
of where you're going.
It happens.
Sometimes you lose track
of who you are.

When that happens,
stop and look around you.
Stop and look within you.
Find that guiding star.

Everyove
trips and stumbles
while walking life's highway.
Everyone
wanders and wonders,
'Am I playing the right part?'

When that happens,
stop and look around you.
Stop and look within you.
That's the place to start."

And then I woke up. Proof I've watched too many cheesy musicals? Could be.

1 comment:

Gwen said...

i think your subconscious is getting to you...