Thought for the night: I'm used to doing things alone. I like doing things alone. But I'd like to get used to doing things with someone else...

I'm sure you can guess the someone I mean.

I've started journaling again. For the past few years, this blog has very much been my journal, sharing the thoughts and feelings I used to reserve for myself with the general public--or at least the portion thereof that actually reads this thing. And that's good. It's taken away some of my reserve and, most importantly (for me), shown me that, well, I'm not alone. That what has always seemed to be my own personal form of Crazy is understandable and accessible to the rest of the world. And that's good.

But this situation is... strange. Nothing has really progressed, in the traditional sense, but... I want to approach this one without outside input. Because often, what you feel--what you know--cannot be put into words that will allow an outsider to really get what's going on. There is an interior life that cannot be shared, no matter how much you may really want to do so. And I know what it would sound like, if I were to try to talk about it, and I know what the response would be... And you could say that I just "don't want to hear it," which is true, I suppose, but only because that response would be based on only a part of the story...

I'm being cryptic, and I don't mean to be, it's just that this is different, somehow.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not abandoning the blog (any more than I already have, as it has admittedly fallen by the wayside in the last several months). It's just that, for now, I'm keeping my love life (or lack thereof) to myself.

In the mean time, well... I'll try to come up with something else to interest you.

Hope you stick around :)

Is it possible to cheat on someone you're not even dating?

Mr. I and I are still at an emotional stalemate, and the other night I chose to compensate for my relative rejection by getting drunk and fooling around with a 23 year old. Again. My reward for this self-destructive behavior is a fucking hickey, and a healthy dose of guilt.

Now, this is silly, right? Mr. I has no claim on me, nor I on him, and thus I am theoretically free to make out with whomever I choose. So why can't I shake the feeling that, in doing so, I've somehow betrayed the man who refuses to date me?

I wish I knew why I do these stupid things, and moreover I wish I could stop feeling guilty when, in theory, I've done absolutely nothing wrong.

Yeah. In theory.

In reality, it's myself that I've betrayed. It's my own feelings I've hurt, not Mr. I's, or those of the boy in question. Granted, should Mr. I ever find out--which, universe willing, he never will--I think he would be upset, but I have no way of knowing. I could just be flattering myself that he would care, and yet... and yet. Emotional deadlock aside, there is still something there between us that remains unnamed and unfathomable.

What saddens me the most, however, is that as I find myself slowly becoming reconciled to this static state of affairs, I find those feelings slipping away. I'm starting to get over him, which one would think would be a good thing, but... as stressful and emotionally frustrating as it's been, I've actually enjoyed feeling this way, being excited to see him, enjoying simply being in the same space with him. I don't want those feelings to go.

So why did I bury them in a corner of my mind while some other guy took my shirt off? Granted, the booze had some part to play in that decision, but in the end it was me who made the choice.

Of course, in a few weeks when I'm back to seeing him every day instead of just once a week, and I'm no longer emotionally and physically exhausted from working crazy hours at work for very little financial reward, it could all come rushing back to me.

Masochist that I am, I hope it does.

Even though I never actually had him, I'm not quite ready to let him slip quietly away.

I don't want to be over him. Not just yet.