HA!

Take THAT goth guy!

You are now no more than fodder for my fantasies!

There is of course the crawling back fantasy, in which you come crawling back to me begging for forgiveness. This has two varying endings.

There's one where I cruelly reject you and restore my dignity, while becoming unbearably successful. You eventually end up in somebody's attic, starving to death and watching tv through your neighbor's window, just so you can see how unbearably successful I've become. One day I pass you begging on the street and recognize you and shake my head and put a twenty in your mug.

The second is where I tell you to be my friend and try to win my trust, and we have an incredible friendship that blooms into true love. You never lie again and become my passionate love slave.

Of course I also have time lapse fantasies. Fantasies where it ends just as it is and we don't see each other for years.

Option A is nearly identical to the one where I get famous and you go live in a basement, except that I also get a mansion and a studio, and you probably end up shining my shoes or mopping my floor or raking my gravel or taking care of my garden.

In long term fantasy number two, we both get famous, and hear of each other, but never meet. But I use a pseudonym for my art career. Then one day we meet to do a gallery together and you realize that it's me. And I knew the whole time it was you, but didn't contact you because I figured you had moved on.

Except you hadn't. You then admit that I was the one that got away, and the only one you ever really kept caring for. And then we fall wildly in love and buy a castle and decorate it with our art and live happily ever after.

Generally the time lapse for those fantasies is ten years because I'm really sick of twenties. And I've only just begun... Maybe it gets better once I can drink legally.

(actually, I still miss you. I wish you would forgive me (for WHATEVER THE HELL I DID) and invite me over to your apartment again soon. If it's really over it's going to be a long time before I can look at somebody else again. Notice how none of my fantasies really involve a husband? I can't imagine not caring about you the most.)

Oh, but that reminds me. There is one more fantasy.

That would be the fantasy where I start dating my Writing teacher (HE LOOKS LIKE LIAM NEESON! (only younger and bald)). And you become jealous. You guys get into an epic kung-fu battle for my affections. In option A he pistol whips you and you're scarred for the rest of your life, for the loss of your love AND from the pistol whip to the face. In option B you go ninja on his face and kiss me passionately while he bleeds on the sidewalk.