Je ne suis pas dans l'amour

I'm hoping that my rough translation won't make any French readers snort milk out of their noses, but it is quite early, and a Sunday, so I can't be held responsible.

I've been having the weirdest dreams lately about He-who-shall-remain-nameless and his ex wife making my life hell. It's weird, because we're really not involved in each other's lives anymore, but I suppose because I've been thinking a lot about the last year and a half of my life that it's bound to seep into my subconscious.

This hurts, y'know? Somedays I feel like the pain of being so used has completely subsided and I feel like a new person, but then I meet someone and feelings start to grow and it all comes running back. Being in love sucks. Thus the title of this blog.

My entire life I've always been the happiest when I'm in love or enamoured with someone, so I'm going to endeavour from this day forth to just be happy with life. I'm not in love. It's my new mantra beginning on a day that I really can't help but feel alone (tomorrow is Thanksgiving in Canada.. I am sadly family-less for the holiday. Summer and I will share a turkey sandwich).

Again.. it still hurts. I happened to stumble upon an old blog of mine from last Christmas-ish, in which I make mention of Wayne buying me a ring, and I think.. it's his fault. That's unhealthy. It wasn't all his fault, and it wasn't all mine. We weren't meant to be, and our relationship would be a textbook example of one which could be defined as 'toxic', so I suppose the first thing I should be thankful for today..

It didn't work out... Love is grand.. divorce is like a hundred grand.

Now go eat some turkey.