Mr. Brightside

She asked me ” Excuse me do i know you? “, to which i replied ” hi, i’m Mr. Brightside “, she smiled and said “well that’s tragic”, i mustered up a smile of my own and said ” I guess it is, guess it is” then i asked her “and might i know who it is that wants to know?”

she just smiled turned and walked away. I’d have gone after her but the alarm clock shook me out of my dream, now i was fumbling around in my room trying to nullify the defining noise.

It was all a dream! i said to myself as i looked at the blurry figure that looked back through the mirror, the suit i was wearing was replaced by a T-shirt and sweat pants, the glass of wine was now a glass of mouthwash and the cigar was now a toothbrush. Her face, her smell, her voice so clear to me in my dreams were now just a blur and yet i was still obsessed with her.

I had called myself Mr. Brightside, why would i do that? Mr. Brightside what did it mean? Was my subconscious self making fun of me? Mr. Brightside…sounded like a name designed for the over-optimistic, over-enthusiastic morons i see everyday, it couldn’t be me. It just couldn’t have!

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