June 3, 2002
Fire and Brimstone
When I go to college I will start collecting quotes again. I will wear my hair in pigtail braids stuffed underneath my new white crochet beanie. I will pillage Kazaa for all it is worth, exploiting the provided cable connection in order to download as much Weezer, John Mayer, and Phantom Planet as is humanly possible. I will drink coffee over books, and over conversations. I will have an inadvertent audience when I play the guitar. I'll take pictures of strangers and friends.
I'll be happy. And I'll be unhappy. But it will be different from now, because the reason I'd be waking up in the morning would be right outside my door.
I was mad at myself today, and, I am trying to convince those irrational parts of my mind, unjustifiably so.
Anybody else would've come and sat on the bench with me and talked. Any of the other employees, regardless as to their estrangement to me. But not Chris. Not him.
Anybody else would've said goodbye. But not Chris. Not him.
So why is it I choose to bestow my affections upon the most unfeeling of characters? Why is it that I insist on being angry when I do not get the attention that mere good manners would've awarded me?
I'm an emotional masochist, that's why. It's fucking true. I always want the one who doesn't want a thing to do with me, doesn't care enough even to be polite. I don't know why. I just wish sometimes that I didn't feel anymore.
I'm not upset. Not anymore. It's just so hard to be me. So hard to be what I want, which is partially what I am and partially what I'm too afraid to be. I try to appear tragic and beautiful and witty and disinterested and cute and intelligent and carefree all at once. What I can't stand is that the shyness is a huge part of who I am. Maybe I am destined to be anti-social and alone. If I have enough books to read, and plenty of movies to watch and best friends to call, and a reasonably short life, I suppose that would be okay.
I'm in love with love. That will never stop being important to me, no matter the rest of the beauty of the world. That is true human beauty. And not only romantic love. Compassion. Charity. Familial and friend love. These things are equally as sparkling, but in a different way.
I shall strive to be satisfied with what I have.
It felt like summer today. I went for a swim before work. Tomorrow will be even better. I shall go swimming again, and then I shall shave my legs in preparation for Ian's mystery outing. He won't tell me what we're doing, and I am quite curious.
I have given up feeling romantically for him. Why would I want what is good for me when I can cry about stupid, tatooed, chain-smoking losers?
astera at 8:50 p.m.