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Defenseless to Dreaming

I miss her hair; her eyes; the gap in her front teeth. In looking back, these attributes are a theme in my attempts to swoon the women of my life. I was a fool. I still am , but now I am a fool who knows he’s a fool. One pretending to be sane, but died a long time ago, and only now does the corpse begin to stink. When I look at where I am, now, I wonder what she would think of me. If she would even care if they played a part, albeit a circumstantial one, in my current state. If I seen her on the street i would lie and tell her how well i am doing, and she would not believe me. My hair constantly disheveled, beard, dirty pants, and foul smell emanating from my body. Then I would go home to torture myself. More ammo for the self loathing. The thing is, I do miss her, and even if it was good then, it would likely not be so today. I have fallen from her graceful assumptions of me. She has seen me turn into a monster, and that is what I regret. Not the fact that I actually became an evil person, rather that she SEEN it. It is so unlikely for a person to see someone they know, or are in a relationship, as a good person again. Not as before. And then, it falls apart. If i could take the thought of that out of my mind, I would. I somehow long, not to make the future better ( because it is tainted), but to live in a time where i trusted people. What i want, she doesn’t. And vice versa. Dreams play a cruel trick on me, in which I must relieve the same agonizing moments over and again, until i finally succumb to it and go mad. I want something that I can never have again, and I must just go on with it, without any residual feelings. It makes me feel good that at least one time in my life i have loved someone, but soon after those feelings are washed away by my despicable nature, and nasty resentments. I must get far away from here, yet i can only outrun the ghosts in my own town, and not the ones who wait until I am defenseless to haunt me.