2001-02-05 :: 981418142

Some days it's not so bad, this whole "living without him while he lives in sheer, unbridled joy" breakup thing. H.H. could never compare, I know, and he knows too though he's trying hard to convince himself that he's really into her.

Maybe I'm projecting.

He probably is into her for all I know because they are both cut from the same stupid cloth.

But some days I don't think about him because I am too busy trying to understand why I am spiraling out of control on the weekends and why I'm doing this to myself; this juggling two guys and randomly hooking up as well...

My weekends have become increasingly smarmy, and dare I say it, dangerous. Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves, here, I mean dangerous in a psychological way.

I have to stop.

Throwing myself from skin to skin is not going to make him disappear or make me feel better. I'm just trying to cover it all up, I'm trying to ocver up the fact that I love him so much and I've lost him for good. I'm trying so hard to convince myself that everything will be okay without him, that I don't need him and that I am so much better off. Tired, tired cliches.

It's not working.

I am awake but zombified.

I play back the loop of a prayer I had years ago: "please let him stay with me forever."

And I don't know why this prayer takes precedence over anything else. I just miss him. I just want the movie ending. Where he comes back dejected and missing me. And there's a ring. A Godforsaken ring.

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