last night, i dreamed i had never met you.
i dreamed about how nobody sat in front of me in my freshman english class. i dreamed about homecoming dances and proms with boys i hardly knew. boys who didn’t want to get down with me to “suga, suga” but boys that pushed me head to go down on them two hours after at some random party at some random house.
and i dreamed that i did it. that i jumped basement to basement and from ford truck to ford truck, searching for forehead kisses of validation and love letters written on the corners of notebook paper while only receiving chapped lips and three-letter texts at three in the morning.
i dreamed about other boys: tall ones, short ones, ones that wore nail polish and never brushed their hair, ones who liked skateboards and bad music. boys who hated their mothers and loved their fathers. boys who lived close to me but only came over at night. different boys, but all the same. i guess that’s funny how that works.
i dreamed about living in some tacky, west hollywood apartment (even though i’ve always hated la) with some tacky, west hollywood native who compared me to girls named after a season in a joseph gordon-levitt movie. i dreamed about being a vegan, even though i’d still sneak out to taco bell once a week. for some reason, taco boxes gave a familiarity i couldn’t explain. i kept secrets from the men i dated. for some reason, it felt right.
i dreamed i got married and had a big white wedding with hundreds of people i barely even knew. people i went to high school with that i vowed to never see again. the girl that bullied me in freshman english was my bridesmaid and my cake was made with cashew milk and vegan frosting ( i snuck out to taco bell when i said i went to the bathroom, however).
i dreamed about having a family, a house, a dog, a life without you.
and when i dreamed about never meeting you, i realized that life without you is hardly a dream at all.
and that taco bell tastes saltier without you eating half of the taco box.
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