My dreams have a convenient way of being illusive, almost to the point that I never remember them. But they are always very, very obvious when I can remember them. While I can't remember what I just dreamed, I know that it was trying to tell me something obvious,
or just make me feel like complete and total crap.

A while ago, months before now, I sent out a request into the universe and I think I said something like:
"I really want a heartbreak, a real one. I think I need a taste of my own medicine; I want to feel."

A few times before this, I thought I'd felt it. It was a stabbing pain but it was over quickly. I'm now fully aware that
this is it.

This isn't a harsh break, a stab or blunt trauma - this is dull and quiet and nagging and just hard enough to ignore that it's on the cusp of my conscious every single moment of the day. I want to breathe it away, I want to flush it out of my system and treat it as a life lesson, as something to be taken with a grain of salt, and I will not stop trying; I will simply admit that this is more than I bargained for.

"All that I really wanted was a habit I could drop any time that I wanted to, and what I really got was you."