Pish

Ho hum la la la what a boring pile of crap. Seriously, sometimes life just seems like an endless monotonous tirade of emotional abuse. I had a dream last night about a guy I know. His name, for the purposes of this blog, is 'N/A Guy.' So, in the dream, N/A Guy and I were apparently 'together' and I was walking by a hotel one night and spotted him shagging some blonde chick. Of course I screamed endless abuse and grabbed the girl by the hair and chucked her down the street. But then when my anger really should have mattered, I was lost. I was unable to scream at N/A Guy, and just cried like a big fat girl.

I ask you, what was the point of this dream? Was it a coincidence that I had the dream last night, in order that I wake up on V Day with a definitive anti-glow? No - it was not a coincidence, it was the cosmos mocking me.

(And the severe lack of valium and temazepam in my house has also contributed to the power of the cosmos and its intended mockery.)

What makes it all the more dumb is that N/A Guy doesn't fill any kind of sexual or otherwise capacity in my real-time life, so it was just my brain picking a random bloke to taunt me with. I suppose I should be thankful that it wasn't someone wholly ugly or repulsive, but I'm too busy fighting off the feelings of hatred I now have for him, for something he hasn't really done.

In short, I've started the day with a frown, and the flowers have already started arriving downstairs - the girls are squealing, there's mention of love hearts, and I'm about to vomit.