"In visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed-
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted."
Edgar Allan Poe, A Dream
Kit's gone.
After a week of childish behavior -- things I wasn't fit for thirty years ago -- we've left each other. I honestly don't know what I was thinking with that girl, other than "fun". She had almost talked me into purchasing a red Mustang, for God's sake. And I wore leather, which -- although I look rather good in it -- is horribly uncomfortable and makes strange noises when you move.
Recently, I've also escaped from the greedy talons of a prostitute named Sabrina, who took more from my wallet than from my heart. Damn those escort agencies posing as dating services...
So, I'm alone again. How splendid.
It always seems that when I'm alone, I notice Daphne and Donny more than necessary. Jealousy courses freely through my veins, and I've had to remove all my cooking knives from the cabinet... Frasier took them for me. I've been living off of French bistros and little packages of biscotti. And every night, I sit at home with a book of poetry. Usually St. Vincent Millay or Poe... Ninety percent of the time it's a depressing love sonnet. The other ten percent, scribblings of pain, and years of longing for something unattainable.
Daphne wasn't unattainable. At least, not for a man like Donny.
Here I go again. Off in my world of dejection and torment... I sound absolutely pathetic. The interesting thing is, I don't really care. Frasier and Dad may think I'm being a jackass, but -- and this may seem terribly silly -- Daphne is a woman worth mourning. I could cry every night for thirty years and wouldn't feel the least bit ashamed.
And I will cry for thirty years, because I don't know what to do with myself.
I can go on with my charade, I suppose, although three out of the four people I generally associate with are already a part of my little secret. What's the point in pretending if most everyone knows? Of course, if I say a word, I could ruin Daphne's happiness. I could ruin her engagement...
Part of me says that's a good thing. That eventually, she'll forgive me and we'll live the rest of our lives together in joy. But, she loves him the way I love her, and she is the kind of woman who would want to honor her wedding vows, just as I did with Maris. It's so peculiar: even though I'm angry at the mere idea of the two of them, even though I can't stand the thought that she chose him, I still admire and love her the way I always have.
...Always will.
God... did she really have to pick him? Donny Douglas, divorce lawyer? He's... short! Tactless; crude; and I don't think he wears much deoderant! He says he'll give her stars -- I'd give her the sun and the moon in a heartbeat. She wouldn't have to wait. I'd give her everything she'll ever dream of...
But that's not what she wants. She wants simple. Donny is a simple, manly man who likes to do manly things with other manly men. Having a career that involves shouting at people doesn't exactly hurt his masculinity, either. He's traditional. Lovable.
And I guess I'm just... none of the above. It's highschool all over again.