I dreamt about you. In my head you look like Seth McFarlane, though I don’t suppose you really do. I don’t know why you were there. I let you go long ago when it became clear I held no charm for you. Did I ever?

But you were there in my dream and it was some some love struck adventure story. Fitting I suppose. But the whole time I knew you weren’t mine. But I felt all this love, but didn’t know where to put it. Because you aren’t mine. You were never mine. Except perhaps on that New Year’s Eve. The time in your apartment on the couch with the rain outside the glass door and your ridiculously small single bed.

You were the only one I tried to introduce to my father. Ever. He’s gone now. I’m sorry that yours is too. I know you were close. My dad has left my sister and me with an awful lot of baggage. The step-family took his estate from us. We got nothing. I’m glad that’s not your story.

And congratulations on your family. And following your dreams. I’m so pleased for you.

Unfortunately for me I still want that Norwegian I can’t have, so I have no family. And I seem to have no friends in my life. I am most completely alone. Good thing I like my company….

Why were you in my dream? It was torture. And it was love. But it was all this love I have nowhere to put. Giving it to you would be so utterly pointless. But I have to put it somewhere. The Norwegian doesn’t even know I exist, so that’s no good.

There’s an answer. I’m sure of it. Perhaps I’m not asking the right questions or looking in the right places…

Despite everything, it seems clear though, that in a way, I will always love you. Not in a creepy way. But in a fond way that I am so very happy things have worked out for you. ❤


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