Like Sand Through the Hourglass

So the one call came. But the one after that didn't. And so, yet again, I'm stuck with a bunch of daydreams that I can't even have anymore because they remind me of how dumb I was to think that, maybe, this time, it could work. Like the really good apartment that someone else gets to just before you. Or your dream job that the bitchy girl you went to grad school with gets, just because she once slept with the human resources assistant and she might put out again, sometime in the future.

I have a lot of those daydreams that I can't have anymore. Because they've outlived their usefulness. Because my reality has intruded so far that the daydreams are beyond fantasy...they're more of an impossibility. Because they hurt too much.

I'm getting afraid. Afraid that I'm walling off pieces of myself that I'm never going to get back. I don't have dreams anymore. Or aspirations. Or goals. Other than having enough money by the end of my paycheck that I can both pick up my drycleaning and pay for a new passport. Not that I'm going anywhere.

I want to live big. To dream big. But reality has a way of crushing your soul, you know? It makes you small. It makes you hard. It makes you bitter. I'm becoming that kind of person. The kind of person who doesn't see possibilities. The kind of person who only sees obstacles. I don't want to be that kind of person.

The nicest boyfriend I ever had, the only one I feel bad about breaking up with? He's married now and expecting triplets. I don't know whether to be happy or sad.