It has been over a month now since that dream trip to LA, and I still feel the antagonizing duel between feeling it was perfect and knowing it was the begging of the end.
I had been feeling slightly better lately. Not that I’ve gotten over Liam. Not even close. I think I never will. Just that I had somehow managed to numb myself, especially since I hardly saw him around, which made it all so much easier. Until one of those recurrent nightmares broke me back down, smashing all my progress to smithereens.
I’ve had some peaceful nights and some devastating ones, where I would dream of him. I would dream that he would come to my house, make love to me, profess his profound love for me before we fell asleep in each other’s arms. I swear I could even feel his presence. It seemed perfect until
