Fucking History...

...repeating itself. All over the carpet.

Thanks History. Thanks a lot. It's going to take forever to get those stains out.

It's been a week now since I've heard a peep out of DM. In the entire time I've known him, I've never gone more than a day without hearing from him in some form or another, even if it was just a two word text message, but now... Texts and voicemails, including the last which stated "You are clearly avoiding me and I'd like to know why. Call me." have gone unanswered. Short of his being, oh, let's say, dead, I cannot come up with an explanation for this fuckery that would not leave me pissed off.

And no, I don't wish he was dead.

My self-esteem might, just a little, but the rest of me would much rather he remain attached to this mortal coil... even if he is a total fuckwit.

So here I sit, kicking myself for genuinely, honestly expecting this one to turn out differently than all the rest, and wondering if he'll ever surface again and attempt to win back my affection with some sort of explanation, half-assed or otherwise... or if he'll just join the ranks of all those before him, who stuck around just long enough to get my hopes up, and then vanished into the stratosphere with nary a backward glance.

Fuckers.