Haven't written in a few days. Yeah I'm in college, so I have this little thing called finals... fun fun. Just one more to go, then I'll be home, I can make it...

I came back to find I had two notes left for me! Ecstatic. Leave lots of notes. I enjoy them tremendously.

So I sent a package to my again ex-best friend of the notes and cds and frog 'best bud' keychains (he likes frogs) I would have given in a much more sentimental way otherwise, with just a little index card note saying 'Here. I wanted you to have this once. I don't really care what you do with it now.' And it was packaged in paper towels from the bathroom, and I wrote on the end of one 'We have really great paper towels here. Maybe that's why I'll stay at MC.' Yeah, mature.

If I had received no reply, it would have been fine. If he had come crawling back to me hands and knees saying how sorry he was and how wrong he was, yeah, that would have been fine. Instead I get an email saying 'This is not a demand. I request a call from you tonight sometime before 3 am. I want one more chance to talk and that's all. If you can't give me that, I won't understand, but I certainly won't try anymore. I'm gonna try to call you, but I'm not sure if I will, but either way I'm not laying it on you to make the decision; I'm just not sure if you're there right now.' I sent an email back just to say ah, no, you can call me. And that's been it.

'Cause I said the last thing, I sent him five months worth of notes and that said a lot. It said a lot of the things he accused me of never saying, like what exactly he means to me. And so I'm not going to say all that and put my whole heart out there, and then be the one to call when I have no idea what his reaction is going to be. Hell no I'm not going to call him just to be berated one more time and then that's it. And frankly, if the only way another move is going to be made is if I make it, I don't care if it's never made. I'm doing just fine this time without him.

And he can just tell himself that I became a bitch and it wasn't worth it to put up with me anymore. He can ignore whatever might have meant something in those notes, and he can ignore the fact that nothing had been going wrong between us in the months that we were friends again until the last week when I started telling him how I actually felt about things, god forbid. He can say he doesn't need my shit anymore, because I'm saying the same thing. If he defines a friend as someone who will visit a website more than once and cheer you up on command and, oh yeah, never change her mind on anything, well we just have a fundemental difference on what makes a good friend. I'm tired of having to prove myself to win this or that part of him. I'm tired of nothing is good enough. It has never been a chore with any other friend I've ever had, and it would be okay if it actually brought us to some transcendental higher plane of friendship, but, ah, it hasn't. I don't care if this is the end. I'm through with this shit.

So aaanyway. Mundane tasks follow. Gotta clean my room - that will take a good five hours. The girl next door is transferring and leaving her carpet with us, which is exciting, but in the present state of our room there is no possible way to even get it in the door, let alone spread it out on the floor. Then perhaps study a bit for my last final, but it's not until 3:30 tomorrow and I'm not worried so I'll probably do that in the morning and relax tonight. Then my semester is oooover and I'm going home, and I'm gonna get all crafty and bakey (better word?) for 'smas :) Tres exciting. Ta ta for now chickadees.

In choosing to forget you cut away the safety net that holds your heart, holds your heart. And you go in search of youth, touching up your empire roots, but these days we don't know how to march. Satisfied with a knife in your spine, you're bloodless.

So tell me again what am I feeling, you know me so well. So what am I feeling, and how can you tell? I've got a feeling you don't know.
Tom McRae