I dreamt about you again, this time on much more favourable terms, and when I awoke I got out of bed and took my shorts off to put something warmer on in the freezing cold morning. As I stood, naked, at the foot of the bed, I suddenly recalled the times Id do the same whilst you lay in my bed and, upon those mornings, as I took my shorts off, you would say ooh la la with enthusiasm. I thought you were insane but I, naturally, loved it. I remember the time that I got out of bed the moment I awoke and you said wait, you cant get out of bed yet. I asked why and you answered because we cant go to work without having sex... that would just be wrong.
And so I sit here feeling better, almost revelling in my better health, sipping a glass of wine and eating crisps, cursing the lack of exercise I have had during recent times and yet feeling good because my memories of you at this point seem only to be sweet and the bitter pain of losing you has faded. Im not sure if too much time has passed or if my emotions have passed away... but even the fact that you ignore me now when I message you doesnt seem to hurt me as much as it once did.
Im dead inside and that somehow helps. I also numb the remnants of pain with this African wine and the soothing sounds of music created by the troubled individuals of this world. I saw a program on television tonight about the link between madness and creativity. I believe that it is an established fact that madness and creativity go hand in hand and it was even said that a break down in mental health often results in a spike of beautiful creativity before it results in complete madness and obscurity and/or death.