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red wedding dress

5/20/2012

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I had a dream last night that we were getting married.
You were feeding me mimosas and I was wearing a red wedding dress, just like you always wanted. I knew it was a dream, because I didn't want to drink, knew I shouldn't be wearing that dress, and wanted more than anything to leave... but I stayed. 
And, I cannot really figure out the question to this answer, no matter how hard I try.
"She was selfish and immature, and you were...."
What is stupid, Alex?
Wrong.
So, you were feeding me mimosas, and I kept asking you to stop, but you wouldn't.... and I realized that the whole wedding was about you, just like everything else was...
What is codependent, Alex?
No.
And I thought about how this was a wedding that you had planned with her-- transferring it to me in a pathetic attempt to save yourself, regardless of who you hurt or how you hurt them.
What is mean, Alex?
nope.
So, in the dream, I realized all of this. I saw your constant victim thing as it was and is, and I made the same decision I made 8 months ago-- to leave in the most healthy way I ever have.
What is a bad girlfriend, Alex?
Wrong again.
So, I  suddenly stood in the middle of this valley in a large mountain range, and looked up at the two mountains on either side. I was still wearing the red wedding dress that I never wanted because it belonged to her. I thought it made sense-- from the middle I could see both sides more clearly, but I realized that there I was, in the middle, but alone. 
What is too picky, Alex?
Incorrect.
And, I immediately understood that I was the only one ever in the middle. Instead of seeing more clearly, I was simply alone there standing with an empty champagne flute, wearing your true love's dress. You were so far into your own myth of victimhood that it was simply me waiting for you to meet me there, in the middle, which you never did or would.
What is doing the same thing over and over, Alex?
Not that either.
So, I heard your voice as an almost echo, you were so far away. You said "I'm not ok with what happened" and I thought, of course not. Like a petulant child, you are not ok with the fact that you couldn't control me. You couldn't manipulate me into staying. You couldn't use the only tool you know- manipulation and victimhood. But, in the dream, you were so far into your own world that your words were almost a whisper.... and then they were gone.
What is trying to make it work, growing and learning?
And I took off her red wedding dress and walked away as I did 8 months ago... knowing I made the right decision.





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this way

5/13/2012

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I don't remember when it was-- for my defense? for my graduation? some other random time?
But I do remember that she asked if we were friends.
"We could talk forever, if we had the time," I responded, and she said "I can see that."

That was my truth then and for years after. That was our truth.

So, it seems ironic (in the Alanis Morissette way) that it would end with silence... that it would end this way-- with you angry at me for wanting to talk, to communicate, to clear the air...

I don't remember you in this completely straight woman way, but I do remember that it was always there, even if I didn't notice until you yelled at me, finishing with "I wouldn't have yelled at you if I didn't care about you."

So, it seems normal to be completely thrown by this; not understanding what I did wrong or why you refuse to communicate with me...

I don't remember what my response was, but I do remember feeling like I should say "I am almost sure that's what an abuser says after he beats someone to tears or worse."

So, it seems completely tragic that this is how it is going to end; with silence and passive-aggression, you angry about my desire to talk, to have a voice, to speak my truths.... and one day I will think with the same tears in my eyes, missing you so much, as I do right now:

I don't remember how it ended, but I do remember it ended like this...
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    Cora Leighton

    Thoughts about womyn, bodies, performance, life, play, and general randomness.
    If you think things are about you-- they probably aren't.

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