He did not come.

I awoke from the most terrible nightmare.  A little man, muttering in French, bent over something iron, cold, hard and glinting, doing something horrible.  I don’t know what.  I have that feeling of deja vu- that I have this dream constantly.  It gives me the chills- I’ve woken up in a sweat.

Everything seems so unclear.  Did we really fight over that? We are leaving tomorrow. I must get ready.

And before I could even post this I saw a girl out in front of the apartment. Trustfund Barbie.  He can’t come to me but he can make time for her?  She has come by the apartment now, no longer content to sit in wait within that lair where Vronsky’s mother crouches? Ugh.

I am not going anywhere with him. I will not live like this.

He says I am “unbearable,” that this is “unbearable”

…he will regret that.