November 13, 2002
Life is real like that
He called wanting to know how my life has been. Said I’ve been distant lately. Distant. Was there ever a time, even in it’s slightest measure when things weren’t distant between us? Because I can’t think of a single moment when I thought what we had was anything but fleeting. It was fun, sweet, agreeable but never meaningful. Just a way to pass the time really.
And I sat there listening to his incoherent babble and wondered why we [everyone, not just him and I] even bother. Why we, as a species feel companionship is so essential. It has to be more than the animalistic urge to procreate in order to keep our genes around, the species alive. Maybe I’m idealizing it. Maybe it isn’t anything more than that.
Maybe I’m just cold hearted.
I told him we could get together for a cup of coffee sometime, though I doubt it will ever happen. How can people be so naïve? Why do they fool themselves into seeing something that’s not there? I’m sick of boys who claim to be close to me, think they mean something to me when they don’t. I’m sick of the, ‘I will prosper where others have failed.’ mentality. I wish someone would, just once, believe me when I tell them I don’t keep people around for very long. Just once, not get all sappy.
I know it will happen someday. I’ll meet someone and things will be wonderful. Then he’ll walk away without a second thought. And I’ll be crushed, broken into a thousand tiny pieces because he’ll have been the one person who broke through my walls and touched my heart of hearts. Life is ironic like that.
9:20 a.m.