drainage

insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result... i know this. i know this. so my continued stagnation is an affront.
she told me to leave. i'd tell me to leave.
*
i was just skyping with b. he is drunk and telling me he loves me. it goes through me. my reaction is shuddery and immediate. he is someone i want to help. i suppose i am a 'fixer'- my mother used to call them my 'pound puppies.' "you can do better" she'd say, rolling her eyes.
once loved, always loved. that's probably another hallmark of insanity.
*
i woke up from this today. but i didn't want to.
i'm in a classroom. there's an elevated red couch in the back of the room, behind a phalanx of desks. sun shines against the wall. it is flattering light. a dark-haired boy is beside me. we start talking. the lesson is continuing but we are not paying attention. we are hyper-aware of each other. i can feel the heat of his arm, the feel of his exhalation, i can fucking smell him. we lean in closer. it's one of those moments where we both know. we're going to kiss, we're going to fuck, it's going to be fucking phenomenal, and we're both holding back. when you know, you can wait. you can drag it out and savor it. i'm thinking to myself "take your fucking time. but not too long."
we're leaning into each other and making smart-ass remarks. his breath burns my neck. i am smiling and whispering in his ear.
the teacher calls me out. i sit in an office. she lectures me about being disruptive.
i am in my apartment, which is a city-pretty flat with red walls and shiny appliances. he knocks on the door and runs in eagerly. "hey!" we greet each other with hugs and smiles. we're both smiling an obnoxious amount,actually. he's carrying a bouquet of flowers- birds of paradise with a pollen-y yellow filler. i start rummaging for a vase. "you could hang them, too, so they'll dry" he suggests.
and i wake up. the iphone "alarm" selection, actually. 815 PST.
*
i am sure there are sundry cliches to apply to this... but the basics, the emotions are there. that's what everyone wants. they want to feel fucking special.
*
i recognized the person in the dream.
*
life is fucked up and life is poignant and life goes on.
*
lately i feel like i'm just surviving. i'm disengaged and watching the world pass by. gotta change that.
*
5 clients today. it rocked. i gave good fucking massages. some days i know my massages suck- lack of connection, weird body, weird human, whatever... but today i was on. everything just made sense. i was letting my mind drift. i thought "i'm not going to take this too seriously. it'll be fine" and basically jammed out to popol vuh and sigur ros and listened to three out of five clients fall asleep. i went deep on everybody. i made really good tips.
i needed that. my ego needed that.
*
when i left work i was left devoid of distraction and listening to fucking "mystical shit" in my headphones, and reality collapsed back upon me. so it goes. i'm here now to write about it. i guess.
i can't write about the serious shit, yet.
it's somebody else's story to tell. i was just a grateful witness.
*
i am so disgusted, and so unsurprised, with b. fucking really? was he this much of a dipshit when i was married to him? s, honey, don't answer that.
my personality. on my tombstone, if i have one (i don't want one), let it me engraved: "yeah. low self-esteem, maybe. or she just trusted too much."
*
i would fall right back into it.
i still believe in idealism.
*
the world has taught me nothing.