You were there, in the food court, the girl of my dreams. You showed me what I’ve spent my life looking for, but the juxtaposition of intervening furniture blocked my sight. I didn’t see my dream come true, I saw it go by. Your eyes, your expressions – you were asking “well, are you going to do something about it?” and I just sat there like a deer in headlights, shocked not by what I’d seen, but what I’d missed. Dumbfounded, I let you walk away without saying a word, not even able to present an outwardly visible reaction. A few moments after you’d gone it occurred to me that what I should have asked was “what did I miss?” – but by then it was too late, the window of opportunity had closed.

I tore my heart out with a blunt spoon, threw it on the ground, and jumped up and down on it, repeatedly.

I know I will, but it makes me wonder how I can keep going, knowing I just watched my dream go by instead of living it. It’s a terrible knowledge, and I can’t believe how much it hurts, but the worst part is that there’s no one but myself to blame.

Even this, too, shall pass, and I will walk away stronger from having survived the pain. Different, certainly, but also definitely stronger. Still, going through it, I’m living in my own personal hell which is just exactly big enough for one soul. I wonder when and where I will find the way out…