April 6, 2002
Fucked Up Retard Me
I am going to have a headache by tomorrow. And then it's only going to get worse, because I've decided to follow my gut instinct.
I think he likes me. I'm going to continue to think so, regardless as to what was said to Owen. I think it is highly likely, considering Brandon's personality, that he said that to keep Owen out of it. I don't want Owen in it, either. I should think that the fact that he inquired after me, and was happy with the answer he recieved, far outshadows what was said to OWen.
I am also going to do nothing. I am going to smile, and talk to him when he is near, but other than that nothing. I am also going to pray, fervently, that I have not already messed this up. I have confided only in a few of the hostesses, and none of them care/know me well enough to say anything on my behalf or harass Brandon in any way. I think I am safe. I hope, I pray, that I am.
I understand where he is coming from. My first instinct on all of this was also to try and keep, as much as possible, from having a scene at work about this. I should not have said anything to OWen, or really to anyone else. But Owen was my real mistake.
I hope Brandon gives me a chance despite. I won't see him again until tomorrow.
When I will have a horrendous headache from thinking about this too much.
Melia smiled yesterday. She is the stone faced line server that Owen likes, who we all think is a bitch. She never smiles.
But she smiled at Owen. She became a totally different person in front of him.
It was really quite spectacular.
I retract all former opinions, ones which, I suppose, should never have been made in the first place.
I am going to get ready for work now. Let's hope I make it through the night.
O, please, don't let me have fucked up yet something else that could have been great...
astera at 1:56 p.m.