Villains of Circumstance

Taken at the Carnegie Mellon Museum of Art in Pittsburgh, PA. 11.7.19.

I was doing okay there for a bit. I threw myself into work, filling in the spaces with good film and captivating music. Dulling out the white noise with podcasts, catching up on all the cleaning around the studio I didn’t get to. Cooking meals I didn’t get a chance to make while my ankle was out of commission, writing essays and outlines like there was no tomorrow. It felt like strides were being made, life was progressing, my anger was subsiding and I was on my way to forgetting about you.

Then last night happened.

I had a dream. You were in it and it was a dream I’ve had before. The only thing that changed was the setting.

We were in some bar/someone’s house…? It was dimly lit with neon lights, bar tables, and a broken shower. We were supposed to meet up with some people from our days when we used to organize. But no one else came—it was just you, me, and the flickering neon sign for some random beer brand.

It was late and I felt sleepy. I felt so comfortable around you and before I knew it, our hands enveloped one another, I put my head on your shoulder and closed my eyes. There was a sense of ease in this movement and a feeling of relief that we were the only ones around. In that moment in time, I would have died happy.

Then I woke up, it was an hour before my alarm was set to go off. I’ve been in a daze since.

I felt so happy in the dream and yet in reality there’s a part of me that wants absolutely nothing to do with you. My heart and brain can’t come to the same conclusion, so I’m left in limbo trying to decide what to do with you and what to do for me. I would rather not decide, but rather go back to a month ago when I could daydream about a far away life where one day we would be together—happy, in love, forever enveloped in a loving embrace.