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This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

Little light of mine

I've had this song in my head all morning after I read about Bruce Spingsteen's concert at Madison Square garden the other night. It sounds like it was something between a two hour long song and a lot of exercise. I still dig Springsteen, so I didn't mind the read.

My dreams have been bothering me the past few weeks. In every one, no matter what the current theme is, my ex boyfriend pops up. He's there for a little while, then he's gone. No matter how insignificant his role, I wake up right away. I sit in bed and smoke a cigarette, trying to ignore any feelings that rush up into the back of my throat, then attempt sleep again. Usually, I don't get to fall back to sleep. Especially since it's so elusive to begin with, in my house.

I don't know what it is. Maybe it's the Fall weather. Or maybe it's my breakfast (lack thereof, to be honest). Or the way I make a cup of tea in the morning (or order it from the drive through because I'm usually late for work).

I do know that I'm not sorry for the way things have unravelled between us. And both of us have moved on in ways we've thought appropriate. I'm also not begrudging his happiness or anything like that.

The thing that bothers me the most, is that even subconscious thoughts still come to mind, and I can feel....what I used to feel. It's like living parts all over again, and having no control of the beginning or the ending.

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