Fragments of a Dream

Just tell me you see me, okay? And it doesn’t even matter if I genuinely want you or not. I just looked at your pictures and we exchanged a few words, and in that fraction of a moment it crystallized inside me that you look like the word “No”, like all the women who rejected me in the past— alienated, distant, unattainable. Like a faraway star. And your “No” is like an accusing finger pointing directly at all my flaws. It looks down on me from top to bottom like some arrogant snob, flooding me with all the emptiness and worthlessness I already feel inside.

Listen, I can’t breathe. I’m driving the long way to see you for the first time, and my heart is pounding beyond the rhythm of emotion, creating this familiar suffocating sensation that slowly empties me of air until there’s no breath left, and the oxygen runs out. Listen, you’re breathtaking.

Excitement mixed with anxiety, that maybe this time I’ve found the one who’ll banish all the fantasies out of my mind and perhaps I’ll marry her. But instead of getting excited, I play the disgustingly familiar game with myself: let’s find your flaws so I can momentarily regain control over my feelings—the power I’ve handed you without your knowledge.

I try to breathe and lean back, but the support is a broken reed and when it snaps, I shape its hollow shaft into a barrel aimed at you, marking you with a crimson cross—for I must thaw the ice within you. You probably don’t know, because I never told you, but inside me lives a little boy, frozen in time, growing colder, calling for help. Listen, he and I are longing for the warmth inside you.

Hey gorgeous. Wasn’t yesterday something? The ice melted, did you notice? It melted, and suddenly I see things in you I deeply dislike. That charming laugh turned silly now breaks my heart—the same heart that just moments ago was racing beyond the speed of emotions. But hey, I’m breathing again. Breathing through the pain, finally finding relief. So give me a moment to catch my breath before I mourn the death of the fantasy.

Last shards of a dream—and that’s it.

Listen, why do you keep texting me, insisting on talking every single moment? I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to see you—not now, not tomorrow. Maybe Friday. After dinner. Late—maybe we’ll sleep together, depending on how bad I feel with all the shit I’m putting us through right now. Trust me, I know how pathetic this whole thing is, and I’m dying to free you from the sticky poison that is me. Because you deserve better.

You text me, and I can’t find the mental strength to respond. The thought of talking to you at the end of the day feels like a burden I don’t have the energy to handle. Your need for closeness grates on my nerves, costing me my peace of mind. Honey, you’re one message away from that terrifyingly familiar text: “Hey, I’ve been thinking, and… this isn’t it”.

I’m spinning in this endless loop like a carousel out of control, dizzy and a step away from throwing up. Turns out I overate again and lost my balance.

Now stop. Steady your breathing: Four seconds in, six seconds out. Brief pause. Four seconds, six seconds.

Alright.

Listen, I’m breathing again. And along the way, I met someone else, terrifyingly beautiful and her beauty renders me powerless. She gives me attention and maturely communicates her feelings, but I’m looking for the catch. I need someone else on the side to regulate my anxiety, so I found four more. My appetite is insatiable,

just don’t swallow too much.

Don’t throw up.

Oh.

Listen, I can’t control it, but the megalomaniac side of me comes out and pulls me into an ego trip of raw power.

The invulnerable side of the moon.

Hey, isn’t it great that we got closer? Sorry - I know I wanted this so badly at the beginning but now I’m in the anxiety phase over someone else, more mysterious than you. Sorry I didn’t mean that, but every time I try to focus on you she’s the one floating into my thoughts.

The mysterious side of the moon.

Hey mysterious woman, who I decided is as beautiful as a statue and sends me mixed signals. I wanted to play clean with you. I showed attention and consideration. I cut off past ties, deleted the dating apps, and even bought you a gift. You have no idea how hard it is for me now to limit myself only to you. Look, I swallowed my ego when you replied dryly. I swallowed Klonopin when you didn’t reply at all. I swallowed two more pills when you told me you missed me, but your words didn’t match your actions.

But now you’ve crossed every boundary.

I played detective again: You said you missed me, and I desperately wanted to believe it. When you withdrew, I told you I need to break free from the pain this relationship floods me with. Over coffee, you looked deep into my eyes. You told me you choose to stay and appreciate my maturity. You said “Stay”, but all your body language screamed “Go”. You texted that I’m special, that you don’t want to starve the little boy living inside me—that he’s beautiful and special, just like me. And then you vanished.

I wanted so badly to hold onto that, do you understand? Because no one ever talked to him without a filter like you did. Your silence builds walls inside me and your half-truths close me up, folding me inward like a flower. Hand on heart and without an ounce of cynicism—I just wanted to know you, to get closer to you. I wanted to rest my head on your lap and cry. I just wanted to cry beside you, because honey I haven’t cried in years and I’m on the verge of tears that won’t break through but only choke my throat. But you’ve dimmed my consciousness to such an extent that I can no longer tell truth from lie.

What was real?

Hold on, just a moment. I’ll be right back. I just need to throw up. Where were we? Oh, right. We were at the part where you treated me the way I treated a thousand women before you. Now I remember.

Listen, in the dark, alone, with my head glued to the toilet bowl, I broke up with you in my heart. Now I’m setting a boundary. I’ve cut off all contact until you take responsibility. It’s okay, I’m not punishing you—I’m just protecting myself. I’m human too, you know. I’m breathing again, and with every breath you matter less.

The scarred side of the moon.

Night, and I get another message from you. You better settle for the cold shoulder I’m giving you now, because the grown-up in me wants to heal from you, but my fragile ego seeks to close this circle of pain. You’re on the hurting side now, aren’t you? Just take the hint and fuck off before shit turns ugly. My old self is trying to force his way back. I’m holding him back.

But if you’ve already sent a message, that means you really saw me, right?