Let's throw some context in, why not? It's ten to five in the morning and I can't sleep.

I don't think I ever mentioned it, but Bel got formally together with his lead singer about three weeks after we broke up. It didn't bother me much; the girl will never be my favorite person in the world, and she was the last person I wanted to see him with, but it wasn't my problem anymore and if she was good to him and made things better for him, I was all the happier.

That is not to say this new relationship didn't cause problems in the last two months of my living with him; that would be a blatant lie. There were still sore spots between us, even after we'd talked it through and trashed it out, and her being there only rubbed on them.

I found out about three weeks ago that she had caught pregnant. Bel wasn't sure of what they were doing about it at that moment, and I could sense him (or so I want to think, maybe) trying to convince himself that he could be happy about it and at the same time, convincing himself she wouldn't want to have it, etc, etc, in a word, a mess. I couldn't say anything about it. I just couldn't. It hurt me in a way I wasn't prepared for.

I only knew at that moment that, if they chose to have it, I never wanted to talk to him again in my life.

We talked again about a week ago, and it seems to be over... they chose to abort it. Again our conversation was loaded with things we didn't say. Maybe that's projection on my part, but I know for sure that I was bleeding my words out, trying to avoid the things that came immediately to my mind and I didn't want to say because they are useless now, and would only hurt him, or me, things that are behind us, or should be by now. And maybe I'm imagining it, but from the hesitant, slow way he answered to my comments, I feel he was doing the same.

All those plans. All those dreams. All that hope. The certainty. The moment.

That night, I had the dream.

Will I ever love like I loved him again? Sad as it is, I don't think so.