I’ve been sitting at my computer, playing minesweeper, debating on whether I should say what I want to say in this entry. I’m not really sure if I should say anything, and more often than not, silence is the smartest route to take. But when it comes to matters such as these, I’ve never been so much smart as having to say everything I’m feeling at the exact moment I’m feeling it. So I’m going to at least say a little.
Ever since Randy, ever since I’ve been in love and realized just how terrible it is, few people can make me feel. And I’m not talking feeling anything for anybody, I just mean love. Or at least, the promise of the beginnings of love. Some people made me feel for the wrong reasons, and some people didn’t even realize what they were doing. The latter category includes someone I’ve had an infatuation with for a while now. He knows who he is. If not, then this is just me talking, but I like to talk, so okay.
It’s rare that anyone should make me feel. It’s rarer still that anyone should make we want to fall in love with them, knowing as I do what that entails. And yet someone has. And I can’t be with them. I’m not even going to try, because it’s pointless. And that’s nobody’s fault, it’s just the facts of it. But a part of me feels like it must be karma for treating guys badly in the past. Because the reason I can’t be with said person is much like… well, it strongly reminds me of something. It seems to be my just desserts.
I’m not unhappy. I’m not depressed. I’m not miserably pining for this person. In fact, I’m looking to every other option I can so I can forget it ever happened. But I can’t say I’m not disappointed, because I am. It’s okay, though. Disappointment and I are old friends by now. But I am lonely. And a little sad. Because when you like someone, after not liking much of anyone for a long time, you can’t just find another person to replace them. The moment is lost.
I just want to not think about it anymore and get out of here. And that, pretty much, is the purpose of this entry.
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