Clutching at my lapels, singing in my soprano

Hey hey.

So apparently there's a power outage on campus.
Glad I decided to come to Jersey this weekend.

What did I do...

Well, I came home with my boss and his friend. It was...an entertaining bus ride. Then I went to the mall, chilled with my mom. Went home after we ate. Went out with Summer, Nakeefa, their partners, and Nakeefa's friend Matt.

Needless to say, I almost felt a little out of place, being single. Matt doesn't count; he's more like furniture. Anyway, we went to two bars. I wasn't carded. Talk about a let-down! All this time trying to get to 21...and I don't even get carded.

Afterward, we went to a house party that my boss invited me to. It was interesting. I wound up getting home around four.

This is Saturday.
Sunday, I go shopping. Saturday night, I apparently called a number of people-- Donald, Paul, and most interestingly of all: Jeremy. I sort of remember doing it-- I get really weak and lonely when I'm excessively drunk.

So, Jeremy got back to me yesterday. We went out shopping.

It was very simple. I was feeling awkward and trying to talk less than usual-- limited success.

This is going to be somewhat embarrassing, even moreso out of pocket, and if there were ever anything like honesty in excess, this would be it.

But. I don't like leaving important things unsaid.

It took a lot of resolve not to allow my voice to crack in his living room.

I'm unsure of what exactly my motives were-- on some level, I do think forgiveness is important. I've forgiven him insofar as I had no desire to punch him in the throat or to do something equally vicious. But I don't think I ever did-- the only violence I ever engage in is violence that hurts me. That's why I hit the door instead of the wall: because I knew the door wouldn't break.

But I should be honest with myself-- forgiveness isn't my only motivation. The other part's egoism-- that he'll say more than he already has, that he'll say that I was worth more than that, that he'll say that we should pretend it never happened, that he'll say that he missed me, just to give me the option. just to give me the option.

I suspect these are all things that he either can't or won't do.

And so I stumbled upon one of his eMails today-- actually stumbled; it wasn't intentional at all. And it was really...moving.

So, in other words: no, I'm not really okay. I still have a lot of trouble eating-- I realized this with Pablo, but when I have feelings for a guy who doesn't reciprocate, I get disgusted to with myself to the point of nausea. I guess for most people it's the converse-- girls pigging out on ice cream, what have you. I thought I'd be all better in six days, along with my hand, but it's clear that I'm actually not. I can still put on my game face, but as long as I have time to reflect, to be alone, to think-- I'll still wind up going over could have beens, would have beens, should have beens. And I realize that I shouldn't get into a rebound relationship, but otherwise, it's just me and my thoughts. Me and my thoughts.

In other words, being twenty-one sucks. Holden Caulfield had it all right.

And the messiest blog post of the year award goes to...me.
Time for a distraction. I guess that means more shopping. Or another book.

Coincidentally, I finished Water for Elephants, which was surprisingly good. Reading Age of Aquarius now. I'll give more substantial reviews later.

Let me sign off before I start embarrassing myself again.
Deuces.