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12/17/2005 04:59 p.m.
Merry Fucking Christmas. You know, I read it all when I can because I miss you. I fucking miss you, the good parts, the parts that didn't hurt so bad. So I read and I can't stop myself because I find myself looking through a fucking window wondering you're ok and not sure what I hope for. And so today I look for those tiny green arrows, to see what I can see and there it is. I don't know what youhope for with it but..... fuck.... There it is, me not learning my lesson: When people fuck up, leave them to their own fuckups. Don't look back. Don't wonder if there's anything there. Just go. I have to just fucking go and stop looking at your life and caring whether you wish anything was different, because the fucking fact of the matter is that if you had wanted things to turn out differently they would have, wouldn't they. I know it was you who called. I said hello three times and then I knew from the way you hung up. I don't know what you could have possible had to say but don't. And this is my journal, not a letter. This is one way. Tell the world how you wouldn't have told me... make it clear... make all of it clear...
Fuck.
I am currently Detached