Heartwrenching Post #1

Wow, I guess the Title kind of puts a big expectation on what may ensue here- in this little screen, that peeks in some little window in this big bleeding heart o'mine.

To cut to the chase, cuz I like to do that, Mike and I broke up. It was a civil breakup, a sweet breakup. Lots of girl tears and hugging. A logical outcome to an illogical dance. Dagnabit I love that adorable bugger but I guess these things happen. I can't remember the last time I cried so much. Which to me seems like it can only be a good thing. There is still a low cloud hanging over me but I feel an appropriate amount of bloodletting has occurred. I reached out to a lot of friends, who brought me much comfort, smoked entirely too many disgusting cigarrettes and then fell into a deep sleep. The dreams were weird-I will try and journal them here:

There was a lot of fog. I am in a school that looks a lot like the Harry Potter Hogwart's Academy (nerdy analogy, I know). I remember my brothers were there and at one point I am driving a tiny carmengia (is that how you spell it?) with a manual transmission through a room full of ghosts on the way to my next class. They are everywhere, mainly staying put sometimes popping out of nowhere. They are mostly female and dressed in old fashioned clothes. Io have to swerve to miss them and the car can barely contain me. It looks like an old fashioned bumper car except smaller. They are haunting and eerie but I am not afraid the ghosts will physically harm me. I finally get through but I am worried about my younger brother. He is doing crazy physical challenges jumping on tables and sliding through doorways. At one point, I am in the school's laundromat and John Mayer walks in extremely drunk. He announces to everyone, "Hey everyone, I'm John Mayer and I smoke cigarrettes!". He kind of falls on me as I tell that I too have been secretly smoking cigarrettes. We laugh and start to make out. I feel his body on mine, it feels good. Different.
Cut to the class again, I am walking down the auditorium style aisles. There are benches instead of individual seats. I secretly look forward to the inevitable physical contact. There is a well put together asian girl who has created a martha stewart like spread of beautifully crafted breads and cakes. Her friends, all equally prim and proper, stare at the treats with hungry eyes. I want some but know I'd never ask.

This is all I remember for now. My friend Jeff had a series of dreams after a recent breakup that seemed pretty prolific. I figure I might as well jot these down so that I can see where the message, if any, lies.

I didn't go into work today. Didn't want to start crying when someone mentioned something random that my mind would connect with Mike. I started to let my brain wander down the path of "what is he doing"? How long before he dates again? Fucks again? Loves again? Why couldn't we make it work? But then I also remembered things that rubbed me the wrong way or made me feel less than that I don't have to contend with anymore. I feel okay now, but will I feel okay later? If I get over this in a matter of days does that mean I didn't love him? But I do love him. I miss his arms and the smell of his skin. Everything feels colder without him.