She and I are surrounded by police at this point, and I'm so fully fed up that I finally shout at her.
"I'm sick of this! This sucks, and I hate it, and I hate that you've hurt me like this!" I don't curse, and it feels more honest that way, and it feels like it might sting more that way. She's the one who drove off the road and battered the car against the police officer and parked in a handicapped space and ran from the cops. She deserves to feel bad.
Why am I so unlikely to stand up to any woman I like, to ask for what I want, to stop something I know is stupid? Why am I like this? Why am I awake, writing down a dream that happened a half hour ago?
I lay here, wishing to go back to hear the princess one more time, her voice sardonic and small, her comedic timing excellent, her heart laced with hated for everything, her sarcasm boundless.
Dream 25 May 2019
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