and again.

Really, this missing by minutes is more than I can bear...
Meanwhile, I think he likes me. More than he says, anyway. Is that good or bad?

realizing that...

...guarantees make it *very* easy to be patient.

What a revelation, ya!
:)

sob

where *are* you?

status update

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten

I was doing fine until I missed a message by half an hour and then nothing would do for me but to wait three hours more and waste every minute of it.
Current mood: Atrocious.


Be firm.

wise friends are good for one

:)
Well, they are.

This one is for you, Mamma. Do you still stop by?

misconception

Turns out he wasn't mad, just busy.

Ohnoes, I am such a big stupid. :(
Now what will I do?

<and space, where I will later bemoan my tendency to assume the worst>

decision, decision!

I said something without thinking and someone got upset and isn't speaking to me and I'm wracked with guilt and ruining my digestion, and it isn't my fault.
So WHY am I the one crying myself to sleep, why?

Wise person says, "maybe he is pissed with something else but is using this as an excuse; i used to do it ..thats why i am saying so. give him a week and then talk to him!"
I wish wise person bothered with correct punctuation, but it doesn't really matter anyway, really.


I'm going to give him a week, then. A week, and I will not:

1. Apologize again
2. Ask him where he is
3. Ask him if he's busy
4. Tell him I miss him
5. Ask him if he's ignoring me
6. Ask him why he's ignoring me
7. Ask him to stop ignoring me
   
8. Tell him I never want to speak to him again because the strain is too much and I'm tired of being the only person in this friendship who is actually concerned with how the other person is feeling
   
9. Come online seven times a day and stay awake until four a.m. hoping he'll show up so I can talk to him face to face and give him a piece of my mind... oh, who am I kidding. Welcome to the Suck - it's back to last year you're going, missie.
   
sigh

I will be FIRM. I will be mature. I will avoid thinking of him for a week and I will, I think, not cry, hein?
Oh, oh, oh! It is going to be so hard.

all that they say about old habits

It has been a wonderful time and a wonderful eleven months and the wonder is that I have lasted this long with only the minor hurts that have come my way. Let's face it, love. Once I've cried myself to sleep over a boy it is past time to sever the connections.

don't came back

I don't want to talk to you any more.
Love,
T

you hurt me, and you could just as easily have not. you laid all the blame on my head, where it did not belong, and you left me to ache while you were gone. you are never here, never, never, ever and you can't see that it means anything to me at all.
How is a boy always so blind?

hypothetical analogies

Let us imagine, then, that there is a forest.
(perhaps it has bunnies?)
And it is thick and dark and oh-so-mysterious. And there is a path. Imagine it. Imagine a path that looks as though it leads somewhere special - new and exciting and extraordinary; only you don't know where, or what you'll find when you get there. Imagine a path that promises.
And imagine that you go down this path and you see signs that it might possibly end in a hole with spikes at the bottom and you decide to believe that the signs are wrong and you go down the path anyway because the signs are only signs and not warnings and the path, it is promising, and the way is beautiful and the day is beautiful and you don't really want to believe in this big hole so you keep walking along but bit by bit it gets darker and gloomier and rougher and thornier and you don't want to turn back because you've come this far and you think, perhaps the pit isn't there at all, really and you keep right on disbelieving all the signs even though the evidence is overwhelming until you ended up falling in the hole that you didn't want to believe was there...

And what if there is another forest and another path, and you go down this path because it looks different and safer and it promises entirely different things and suddenly you see the same signs... what are you supposed to do then? It's a different forest, see, and a different path - only the signs of the pit are the same...

My question is this: Is there a pit or not?

too late now

I give up. I am going to stop waiting.
Don't look for me.

I won't ask you again.

them apples

I did it again.
After, how long? Four months? Five months? A year?
It isn't even the thrill - there is no thrill. It means nothing, the act - it is a means to an end. I don't know that I regret the means, and that worries me.
God preserve me from ever enjoying it.

I found the music books, unexpected.
I should be happy.
All I am is worried.

still counting...

The site counters tell me someone from that city has been by, but without further information how do I know who in that city it is? All signs point to probably, but I refuse to assume a thing.
I miss talking to him.

I am so afraid of giving people the wrong ideas.
And then I am afraid of getting the wrong ideas; and it is always far more likely, because I have an imagination that fills gaps in with pleasant alternatives to the truth. Feelings shouldn't be so hard to pin down, surely?


Why do I care? He never hears a thing I say anyhow...

behind my back

sigh.

the statcounter, it feeds optimism.
:(

it's over!!!

Final count: 112.5
I give in. Might as well. Otherwise it is more pain on my head.

...and continued

At the risk of alienating myself from sensible humanity, I need to confess to terribly overwhelming urges to send pings to a number of people.

current count:
110 hours since.

(and it does count. because of the lack of expectation, and the lack of provocation, so there.)

this has become a production, i don't like that. i was, even when i knew people were reading, able to say just exactly all i was worried about even if couched in obscure esoteric references. what has changed, then? perhaps it is the fact that i no longer need to purge as often as i used to. is that it? have i turned into a more balanced, less emotional person? perhaps yes. i think it's the girl friends. what a startling development!

>_<

omgwtf!!!!111!!!!one!!!

Cycles of three?? Are you kidding?
Please tell me this is only becuse one can draw parallels between any two people, given that they are sufficiently not-dissimilar.
omgomgomg
:O
SHOCK!!! DESPAIR!!! UTTERLY INEXPLICABLE JOY AT INNER GLIMPSE INTO THE WORKINGS OF THE UNIVERSE!!!!

hahahahahahahhaa
shit. :| I'm a repeater.


laughter or tears?

...and counting

73 hours since.

56 unacknowledged pings.
274 evidences of correspondence.

I don't have to read them all in one day, though, do I? But no, and this means I have something to do till the weekend.

emo kid emo kid!!!
This page reads differently now that I know the rabbit's reading it.
Hello, rabbit. You are ossum and I love you and here's one (1) number big hug for you. I'll finish writing that letter soon, I promise.
:)

I don't like being conscious of the lameness of my complaints. I was perfectly happy wallowing in self-pity on this page right up to maddox yesterday. Now I can't be happily miserable. And the clear signs of obsession don't help.

Meanwhile, what am I doing about all them poisonous moments? Tomorrow. Saturday. Sunday. What can I do in a day? What can I? Yes I can, yes.

moving times

Today I came home full of resolutions to reform my sad-ass emo ways. And then I did a search in gmail to find the first time I wrote a person about a book and ended up reading a lot of old communication instead.
I am terrible in the beginnings of friendships. And at the ends.
I come off as such an eager love-starved poseur. It's disgusting. DISGUSTING, I say. I am ashamed to read the things I say. ASHAMED. There aren't enough upper case words to express my disgust.
He did write nice letters, though. I wish he hadn't stopped.


I resolutely refuse to write him. I am keeping the resolutions admirably. It has been...two and a half days! ohmigosh ossum!
I am very proud of myself.


Here is the oddity: I wrote more honestly when I wasn't worrying what he felt about me. Why is irony so ingrained in everything I do?

twice over

why can't you write? would it kill you to drop a line? probably yes. this is a good thing. all negative qualities must serve as warnings. this is paw all over again, and catspaw is not a happy prospect. really, it's not. the future is not hard to imagine if one uses the right parameters.

look, you. it's time you stopped with the obsessions with the boys from that particular combination of places. please, T. no amount of teasing from friends and pleasant lunch-time discussions and veiled confessions will change the facts.
THE FACTS.

mewl. :( I don't like the facts.

how many

Ends are painful. I like ends that are ends, though. There is closure.

Papa Santa needs to be forgiven. Can I? Not for a while, I think.

Three to two, if that. What becomes of all my loves? In this moment at half past two in the morning I can say I will be fine in spite of. Tomorrow, I may not believe it.

It is easier when others take the decisions out of your hands. Oh, my T. Is independence such a scary thought? Yes, and yes. Do you hate me now?