The darkest night of the year

"I'm back where I started," I spoke to the night, to the layers of glass on the sidewalk.
"No," she replied, "not back but forward." Forward into restless sleep.

I dreamed of ballet dancers and friend, deceased. When I was a dancer, I never missed a catch. When I held my friend, he never let go. We embraced forever, I felt the heat of his skin. He held like we were saying goodbye.

It's funny how everything's new in a dream- the grief of loss, the joy of dancing, the idea that even on the darkest night, there's a way out of the nightmare.

I still got it, even with no sleep.

Stosch was doing the cutest thing yesterday. I picked up the phone and had the first four numbers dialed before I realized there was no one on the other end of the line I could talk to. Then I hung up.

I don't think I've ever felt more alone.

Okay. I have, but i was 17 and my girlfriend (so I thought) left me in her parents' house to go make out with her boyfriend (I later found out) in the driveway. But I was 17, so really I was alone anyway.

At least this time around I don't have to get permission to go into the city to sulk.