I miss you.

Wow. I am perplexed as to how someone can be so large a douche—it almost seems comical. As if you aren't a real person at all, but a caricature of a person who is supposed to be a huge asshole. Even your voice is assholish!

Your roommate was kind enough to tell me all the things you used to say about me, just a few being: your ex being prettier, you not liking my chin (what the fuck?), and wanting to bang me in different positions. These things were all lovely nails in the coffin.

Sincerely,
Me!

Well. I choose loneliness over heartbreak for my life at this point. That place in my life my best friend warned me about—where all of my past finally jaded me, took away that gullible blindness? Here it is. And the scary part is I don't mind it. I don't mind it at all.

Why now? Why now, as I start my second half of freshman year of college? Shouldn't I just be so ecstatic? But, I've been used, and hey—that hurts a bit.

And we stood, we two lazy eddies of a strongly moving current, swirling around. We were flummoxed by possibility.

i'm going crazy,

i feel so detached some hours and then so connected the next few. i feel like i'm losing my mind and not gaining anything for it, at least maybe i should sell it and make a profit

ok crazyness! do you see it? sometimes i just start crying and don't know why. sometimes i just start laughing and can't stop. either way something is going terribly wrong and i do not know how to stop it.

i cannot let this thing break my life, break me, and yet i can't move,

I don't conjure these images, you know. I wake up with them already in my mind, and then I am nauseated.

So I want my roommates to break up with their boyfriends, and I don't want anyone around me to hunt for or even think about romance. Let's all just pursue intellectual studies and get drunk a lot until I'm ready again.

You know that moment that makes you realize someone is a huge tool? And you laugh to yourself because otherwise you'd cry over the fact that you could have cared about someone who is that much of a pretentious asshole? And then you're just relieved that you never have to see them again, and they are very easily cut out of your life, and thank God?

That moment came to me in the form of a five-minute voice mail about the state of his computer connection.

It was very nice. I was reminded that there is life outside of relationships. I am gullible, insecure, more than a little crazy, lacking in common sense, histrionic, easily excitable, incredibly undateable. But guess what? I'll never be yours again. And that's something I get to take with me.

What a stupid question. The answer is always you.

we can dance around this as much as you want— we're both coming back to GWU this weekend. what will you do then? pretend to want to see me?

bebe, I got you a Nazi hat for Christmas, and you deserve it. you can come get it, and then...I really don't know.

But sometimes I miss you when I'm happy. Sometimes I laugh at something and I reach for you to show you, to tell you, to share it. And I miss you then. And that scares me the most.

I never even had a muse before this year. I did so well without a muse. I just wrote, whether or not I knew anything about what I was writing. And it seemed to work out. But once I got a muse and then it was taken away, it seems it took my writing too.

[Lightning flash. These storms this past week have been insistent, persistent. Almost like my favorite, those lovely summer storms, but these are...colder. meaner. ruthless.]

I want guarantees. I want it in stone that I'll be okay when I go back. I want my plans made. I want to know I won't have to think about him if I don't have to.

[What is that literary term for when the weather reflects the protagonist's mood?]

He wasn't online, and his ex-fuck buddy wasn't online either. All I could think of was him rushing back to her, and them hooking up, and I've been up all night and into daylight hours. No matter how many excuses my brain provides, my stomach is retching, and that's never a good sign.

That poem, by Neruda. Me gusta cuando callas. Is it about the peaceful nature of a strong relationship, or the crumbling walls of an ending one? Interpretation this, interpretation that. You could give me a definitive answer and then I'd know where you were coming from.

I literally understood not one word that came out of the professor's mouth. I was absolutely astonished by what seemed to be a foreign language issuing forth, and the fact that the rest of the class seemed to understand what he was saying. It was awful. I felt like I knew nothing, like my knowledge had been taken from me.

I could—I will—never mind.
I can't do anything to make you happy.
You spit in my mouth;

You string me along.

I will take you outside in the summer rain
And I will lead you into indecision.
I will perform a masquerade;
I always twirl and turn for you.
And you will kiss me somewhere underground.

You promised me snow.

It's worse that I can speak to you just the same way
As I used to.
Nothing's changed—
Except now you feel tense when you look over at me

and I am not smiling.

listening to cheesy bryan adams music and i'm just not over you. my best friend is annoyed at me and my roommates are bored of the drama and frankly so am i.

if you're feeling lonely don't, you're the only one i ever want

is it so much to ask that you feel that way about me? all i can think of is how am I going to find anyone else with your sense of humor, with your pale cracked-out demeanor, with your intelligence and elitism and i'm driving myself crazy still,

i am missing you, i am thinking of so many ways to ignore you or talk to you or be with you and i know you're not thinking anything like it. but you do have feelings for me, right? i didn't imagine that—i'm not imagining it now. right? where are you. oh you're right online. i convinced myself you weren't with her and then just as easily i convinced myself you were.

Observations from the Metro:

There is nothing more beautiful than a woman smiling to herself, especially if she looks around at you while smiling and you get the forceful effect of someone else's happiness.

The man who gives up his seat to someone else is an example of true altruism, and I don't care what psychology says about there being no such thing.

The guys that panhandle know what they're doing, and they're not fooled when you pretend to be asleep.

Someone who is short and breathing directly on one's hand through all of her exhalations is utterly and completely gross.

i hate that i was right all along, but now there is a possibility for moving on. because i may be able to get past some weird insanities like being an asshole or not having emotions or even being schizophrenic. but i can't get over you being with another girl. that just ends things. i guess that's sad. right now i just feel sick.

OK. Best of luck. I regret having met you, and that I guess is the most frustrating part of this whole long thing. Feel free to answer this however you wish to, or just ignore it. You're good at that.

No, I don't. It's better to think they're simply using each other for sex whilst drunk. It fits with their personalities; it lets me be repulsed by them.

I saw her—a good stalking endeavor. She's mousy, pale—has a little boy figure. If he prefers her, he prefers her. What can I do.