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  • I haven't written in some time; I should make more time for writing, but when I'm happy it seems so much harder to tell a compelling story. Pain is what pushes my creativity, it always has.

    I am in the best relationship I have ever been in. It is not perfect, but it is real. We don't have unbridled passion, we make love sometimes sweetly and sometimes awkwardly. We don't yell and fight, we tickle and play. He doesn't make promises he won't keep, because of this I trust him, which is a feeling I can't say I ever remember having before. He holds me close all night while we sleep. We hold hands or walk arm-in-arm. We have our own interests and hobbies, he is teaching me how to fly-fish and I'm teaching him how to cook. Our families have known each other for decades, our little brothers were best-buddies all through school, and we share holidays and celebrations easily. I don't have to watch what I say or what I do in fear of a wrath coming down upon me. We are comfortable in our space and with our new life together.

    Why then, if I'm so happy, did I wake up from a terrible dream, torturing me through my happiness?

    I dreamed that I made plans to sneak away to another city to visit an ex for his birthday celebration. When I got to the hotel room all I wanted was for him to hold me in his arms while I cried. And those are the tears that were on my cheeks when I woke up, rattled and confused.

    I know it was just a dream. I would never do that, for many different reasons. Not only because I love Randy, and it would be a terrible thing to do to him, but also because I never (ever) want to see that other man again. No other man has made me feel so used, so taken advantage of, and so guilty that I still couldn't give him enough to make him happy. No other man has made me beg for forgiveness and beg for sex. No other man has made me angrier, shared less with me, and stubbornly refused my attempts at pleasing him.

    I do not know what this dream meant. Perhaps it was just what I needed to remind me of how happy I am, certainly not that I needed it.

    All it seems to have provided me with is the pain to fuel my desire to write this story.
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