Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Missed the dance. I was really looking forward to it too. Damn illnesses! turns out I'll miss school tomorrow too, because the doctor just called. Luckily, no mono but I have strep. I'll take some meds and by Wednesday will be fine.
Thom isn't answering his phone. Again. This means one of three things, in order of likelihood:
1) He's ignoring me. I can't think of a reason why.
2) He lost his phone. Unlikely, and if so, I'm screwed with contacting him.
3) He's dead. Fuck.
4) He's sick like me (because he gave it to me) and left his phone in his bag and hasn't gotten to it yet. I actually came up with this before the suicide idea.
The obituaries were sitting on the table this morning. I swore I saw his name when I glanced over them and after double checking it turned out to be a George Pedersons. the name was close enough to make me remember that one day it probably will be that bastard's name in the obits, and I'll be one of many girls who are hanging on to him and crying over his corpse.
There are too many coincidences lately. It's starting to get really strange.
Turns out, Emma and Katie were downtown when me and Thom went. They were at the Powell's, working on some essays. It would have been funny if we headed to Powell's and saw them. It would have been more fun than wandering in the cold yelling at him about bridges. Maybe not. Nothing seems to entertain him anymore. I'm not really sure what I think of that. I mean, he had fun shooting zombies with Steven, he has fun fighting me over a book of pictures (hey if you're reading this, I saw them already, on your mom's flickr. thanks for the link! You were so cute when you were 15. ;D), and he has fun having sex, but when he demands me to entertain him my mind's a blank and anything I try doesn't work. He has fun, but not when I'm the one supplying it.
It wasn't always this way. We had fun just sitting next to each other in silence. Just staring into each other's eyes. It was simpler then, but that's no more. He let me in then, and now he's pushing me away.
I should forget about him. Let him ignore me. Let him go off and kill himself and when I find out I won't care. I should, but I'm not. Ah well. It's a process and in the meantime, he's an interesting friend. One who can outquote me (why do I take pleasure in defeat?). One who can prove anything. One who hates the same people I do, and is hated by some of the same. One whom I've had some great times with, some bad as hell ones too. When you've experienced that with a person, you'll find it hard to say goodbye just like that and never see them again.
It'll be an interesting day to see where I am, exactly 2 years, five months from today.
Thom isn't answering his phone. Again. This means one of three things, in order of likelihood:
1) He's ignoring me. I can't think of a reason why.
2) He lost his phone. Unlikely, and if so, I'm screwed with contacting him.
3) He's dead. Fuck.
4) He's sick like me (because he gave it to me) and left his phone in his bag and hasn't gotten to it yet. I actually came up with this before the suicide idea.
The obituaries were sitting on the table this morning. I swore I saw his name when I glanced over them and after double checking it turned out to be a George Pedersons. the name was close enough to make me remember that one day it probably will be that bastard's name in the obits, and I'll be one of many girls who are hanging on to him and crying over his corpse.
There are too many coincidences lately. It's starting to get really strange.
Turns out, Emma and Katie were downtown when me and Thom went. They were at the Powell's, working on some essays. It would have been funny if we headed to Powell's and saw them. It would have been more fun than wandering in the cold yelling at him about bridges. Maybe not. Nothing seems to entertain him anymore. I'm not really sure what I think of that. I mean, he had fun shooting zombies with Steven, he has fun fighting me over a book of pictures (hey if you're reading this, I saw them already, on your mom's flickr. thanks for the link! You were so cute when you were 15. ;D), and he has fun having sex, but when he demands me to entertain him my mind's a blank and anything I try doesn't work. He has fun, but not when I'm the one supplying it.
It wasn't always this way. We had fun just sitting next to each other in silence. Just staring into each other's eyes. It was simpler then, but that's no more. He let me in then, and now he's pushing me away.
I should forget about him. Let him ignore me. Let him go off and kill himself and when I find out I won't care. I should, but I'm not. Ah well. It's a process and in the meantime, he's an interesting friend. One who can outquote me (why do I take pleasure in defeat?). One who can prove anything. One who hates the same people I do, and is hated by some of the same. One whom I've had some great times with, some bad as hell ones too. When you've experienced that with a person, you'll find it hard to say goodbye just like that and never see them again.
It'll be an interesting day to see where I am, exactly 2 years, five months from today.
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