Tuesday, June 13, 2006



In the week since my awful conversation with the boy, I've been sleepless, morose, confused, angry, like eight billion zillion different bad things. I'm not coping amazingly well. But I've at least been able to control my urge to call him. In fact, I haven't even had that much of an urge to call him. It's like, it went so terribly, that even I'm not masochistic enough to want more of that. So, I guess that's been my one good point.

But he just called. I didn't answer. I know I shouldn't call back, but it's like the last ten minutes have been harder, in a way, than the entire previous week was. What the fuck. It's like, now that he's called, my skin has started crawling to talk to him. And I know that no satisfactions, conclusions or compromises can come from having a conversation with him. There's no point to it. I just want to, even though I know I don't want to.

Fuck it. And he probably thinks calling me was the nice thing to do. But it's like all the bad feelings I've had in the last week, I sort of haven't been missing him. And now I do. And it sucks.

Don't do it girlfriend.
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