rechord the melodies

i think, once im well, i need to march around the house being trigger-happy with the dettol spray.

i would love to take yenn’s advice, but i don’t think im strong enough. perhaps if i hated him to the core it’d be easier, but a love-hate relationship is tricky.

on tuesday night he said he camped at my place. i was out, and he said he’ll wait. a half hour later he said he wouldn’t force me to meet him if im not prepared to. what a loser! tell me if it doesn’t look like he just got bored of waiting. i told him as much, and he said i always think the worse of him. what am i supposed to think?

granted, of cos, even if he tried explaining why he had to leave i don’t think they’d be valid enough for me anyway, because clearly the other reason compelled him more than me. he had a chance of reconciliation that night, but he blew it without me having done anything.

scorn, however, does not make a break-up any less lonely nor unhappy.

a wasted day. i finally got out of the house late at 9 and went to town. the only place still open was borders, and i went in and bought three books, books i doubt i’d have the patience to read if i continue to be this down and out. catcher in the rye, a hundred years of solitude, lolita. classics, all, canon too. i don’t know what im trying to prove, or even whom im proving to, my status as a lit student. as if by reading all the classics my life would be made better! as beckett has always tried to present, the poverty of the human condition is too rampant.