I spent my six hours of driving today in a day dream. This is not necessarily unusual for me. The funny thing about this particular day dream was that it culminated in me getting heart broken and enraged. I was so worked up at one point that I had no choice but to start laughing at myself. I mean, if I am going to invent a fantasy and spend my day in it, why can’t it at least be a pleasant one?
The truth is, it was a pleasant one. I enjoyed it. Because of the heart break and the rage. There is something about being a martyr that I actually enjoy. It’s like a guilty pleasure, a bag of chocolates I can feast on until they leave me nauseous. I’m trying to tease out exactly what it is that I find so appealing, but I’m having trouble naming it at the moment.
That I ended up heart broken and suffering at the end of today’s day dream seemed to be the point of it. That the suffering was caused by someone whom I loved, even more so.
Thankfully, I now have an audiobook for the drive back tomorrow.
Although knowing me, I expect I will be back in the fantasy before I fall asleep tonight. Replaying the climax just one more time, and relishing the righteous anger of it. Like sweet candy on my tongue.