"Ah, when the heroin is in my blood, and that blood is in my head, then thank God that I'm as good as dead" Velvet Underground
2010-02-24, 9:06 p.m.

Feeling a bit melodramatic today. The first time he came to visit I was so glad when he left. I was ready to get back to life- it was fun, and then it was over. Kind of like going on a vacation and then coming back. It was easy, harmless. Then something happened between then and the second time he came to visit. He came and visited again and I didn't get up after he fell asleep and just leave. That was my next REALLY fucking big mistake, because then he left the second time and it was a little rough. Still bearable, but it was rough. I was used to him being kind of callous, and was prepared for it emotionally. I'd rationalized it in my head- he just didn't feel the type of affection for me to warrant any impulsive bursts of sweetness. Then I get a text the next day. A simple 'I miss you.' really didn't think it was possible, and it threw me off guard.
My next big mistake was letting him go on and on about how he's not as attached as I am. I should have nipped that in the butt right from the start. I didn't correct him, I didn't tell him that this was all his fault to begin with. When I said I'd visit him in Austin, I meant dinner, lunch. I NEVER suspected anything more. EVER. I knew he was attached to someone else, and I'd resigned myself to that and was FUCKING FINE.

Last big mistake was for not hounding him more on two issues he brought up. 1) the Sondra feeling sorry shit. My feeling gross is HIS own inability to grow up and move on, NOT hers. and 2) His statement about not wanting to give up what we have if what he has with Sondra isn't real. I should have called him an idiot and reminded him it was NEVER real, that it really is all in his head, and she's just feeding off of it. Of course if he keeps pushing and trying to convince her they belong together she might feed into it- doesn't make it real, doesn't mean she really feels anything. It's like a good salesman, able to convince anyone of anything. I really needn't have said those things for my sake at all, but for his. Someone needs to slap him. I hate that he doesn't hear me when I talk. He listens, but he can't actually hear what I'm saying. I hate that he doesn't miss me when he's with her. Most of all I hate that he isn't sweet. He doesn't smell sweet, he doesn't taste sweet, he doesn't act sweet. I hate him because these things are probably only true when he's with me- because with me it's the liberal chick who takes her top off, a friend to experiment with. I was fine with that, AM fine with that, except he keeps insisting it's not true. If I can just be your friend, at least that's a role I can play. Right now I don't know what fucking role I'm playing. The girl who waits around while you faun over some chick who's got your wrapped around her little finger, the ghost of a girl you thought you knew? I have no fucking role. The LEAST that could happen is you call, I don't answer, and you leave a voicemail. Or maybe a simple text "Can't talk, but just wanted to let you know I'm thinking about you" or "things are going better here than I hoped. I have a lot to talk to you about. Can't talk now, but will call when I get a chance." ANYTHING.

Mostly I hate him because I miss him, because I was good being someone else with him until I started noticing little things he did that just got me, made the whole thing less fun and more real which I usually avoid at all costs. Of course that's not his fault. That would be mine. That would be my idiocy for laying all my cards on the table too soon, for fucking my policy over and being open when I should have stayed shut and for looking at him with promise, with my heart in a place less guarded. I hate that I love that smug little smile he has after he's made some point just to tease me and Ive risen to the bait. I hate that I love that teenage boy laugh he does when he's just done something ridiculously immature. I hate that I love his idealism and naivete towards other people. I hate that I love how different he is when we're alone, than when we're with other people. I hate that I love the fact he's silly, silly and in some ways even bubbly. I love his height, I love leaning into him when we're standing, laying my head on his chest when we're lying down. I love listening to him tell a story - his voice changes, it suddenly gets softer, raspier.

I hate that I allowed myself to notice these things and to remember them. I hate that I can list those things, that I admit to those things, I hate that I'm writing this entry even after knowing all he can say about me is that I'm a good person. Fuck him, and fuck being a good person.

All in all, it's as Joe Purdy says- I really thought that I wanted you just for a minute, don't worry I'll get over it. It's my own damn fault, I shouldn't have let you in so far, so fast. A fucking Freddy Prince Jr. movie if there ever was one. Or a John Hughes movie. I'm just going to keep asking myself what would Watts do? She sticks around, has her shit in order, and does whatever the hell she wants. I love Watts. Blah. A couple months from now and this will all just be a bad dream. I'm going to enjoy Houston, go see Tegan and Sara, visit with my sister and fedora, go ice skating. Then I'll get back to New Orleans, and back to life. I'm pretty 100 percent possible this is all a side effect of a change in reinforcement schedules- shifting to a self reinforcement task rather than getting all the grades I'm used to. I'm projecting into other areas of my life, looking for approval from other sources since I don't have a report card anymore. It's unfortunate that all of this is colliding at the same time. What if I misdiagnose my melancholy and blame it on this situation when in fact it is something else?