I hate when I dream about him. Or maybe I love it. Love and hate go hand in hand, so they say.
When I woke up, the dream drifted away or I shoved it away, but either way, I forgot about it. Then I was in my car and it flashed through me, bit into me, and I just

miss him.

Crying doesn't help, but I cried. Just a few tears.
In my dream, he told me he misread me. If that is even a word. It's what he said and I asked him how he reads me now? He said
Truthfully.
Then it turned into a sex dream.
What kind of person dreams about sex with their dead ex-boyfriend? The one who took a gun to his own head and left everyone behind who loved him, left them behind to miss him and suffer?
I told myself I forgave him, but maybe I don't. Maybe I just tuck it all away, push it all away.
Then I dream of him and cry some more.