It's been 4 agonizing days. 4 long, thought-provoking days. 4 days and I miss him so [this so had, let's see, 25 o's] much! He won't talk to me. I just wish he'd call! I'd call him but I'm afraid he'll just hang up on me and I hate that.
This morning he gave me this look and I don't know what it was for. And before homeroom he walked past my homeroom, I was at my locker and I saw him go past. I miss him so much. I'm starting to repeat myself. I sent him the letter I cut out last night. [Christ on a crutch.] It seems like a crazy idea but that's what I'm best at. Hopefully he'll get it tomorrow and [... let's skip ahead, this is, um, retarded.]
Johnny's so funny. He likes Jane Smith [not feeling very imaginative at the moment]. He says he's going to ask her out. I feel bad for Johnny. As if she would even consider saying yes. Wake up, Johnny.
I really, really, really want to see Dracula. I want to see it with Dave, I want to see it Friday. I really do.
I really, really, really want Dave to come with me to our Thanksgiving dinner at David's. Hopefully we'll be something by then, by Friday. [See, this is what's hilarious about this relationship. "Dave" is a total asshole yet I ignore it at every turn and somehow know, HAVE CONVICTION, AN UNWAVERING FAITH, that his shitty mood will blow over and we can be friends again.]
All I've been thinking about is what Dave said about 2 or 3 years. It haunts me. (Like tartar) (tar-tar) (rat-rat) (Like Casper) I wish it could be true. [I don't know what that stuff in parentheses is about, I'm kind of visualizing a commercial about tartar control toothpaste. Maybe?]
[Next is a letter to Dave. It's pathetic. Pathetic that I probably transcribed something I actually gave him. It's too gruesome.]
I'm beginning to feel that it's hopeless. That I should just forget about it. It's been six days since he's talked to me. I miss him more than ever. Maybe I'm wrong to keep hanging onto thoughts of us getting back together. But I can't forget about it. You'd think it would get easier the longer it is that he doesn't talk to me but it's just making me feel worse. Maybe he wants me to suffer, maybe I deserve it. [Holy wow.]
It's been a whole week. 7 long agonizing days. I won't see him today, didn't see him yesterday and it's driving me crazy. I've been thinking bad things like maybe he's really depressed and maybe, I don't know... I'm just really sad. [There's a lot I could say here, for example, he was, in fact, depressed, more than depressed, but that doesn't excuse the fact that he was also an asshole.] Really. The longer it is the worse my feelings of despair get. (I sound like a moron.) But that's how it is. I'm afraid the longer it is that we don't talk about it the harder it's going to be when we do. That's not right. That's not what I meant to say. That doesn't even make sense. I've got all these feelings but I don't know how to explain them or make sense out of them. Dave said that we do that too much, tried to put words to feelings that shouldn't have words. I just wish I could talk to him. I thought about calling him last night and I think I will tonight, try anyway. For all I know he might be dead. What a thought. But it is what I'm prone to think. He probably won't talk to me but at least I'll know I tried. I wish I would've tried sooner. It's been the longest week ever. Then I think if I call him he may not even be allowed to talk to me or if he is he won't or he'll hang up on me like he usually does. But what if he doesn't want to talk to me, I think I'll absolutely die. That's what's been keeping me from calling, that and waiting for him to call which doesn't look like it's going to happen. He'll probably get that first letter I sent today. I wonder what that'll do. And the rest tomorrow I hope. I hope he takes the hint. I'm just miserable.
The Seven Chairs
[A story I was working on for class. We had to chose a picture from a book and write a story about it. This is a rough draft of what I was working on. See the reference here - it's animated!]
The fifth one ended up in France. The other six had already been found and were being guarded carefully in Germany. It's really very amazing how it happened. The knowledge of their existence had been known for hundreds of years. The tales began in the 1500s when a church in England was the center of controversy.
Seven witches were put on trial in the church, had to sit in these 7 chairs. Were sentenced to death, were tied to the chairs and burned, but when they were all set on fire they (in the church courtyard) the sky got dark and there was thunder and lightning struck the which [sic] in the center and they all disappeared and were never seen again. The chairs were slightly charred and smoked continuously for 13 days and the smell of burning flesh never left church, even when they were dowsed with water constantly [???]. On the 13th day they had a high priest perform an exorcism. The chairs stopped smoking, started jumping around and finally rested in a jumble in the very center of the courtyard.
The witches sat unnaturally still when set on fire and the one in the middle simply said, "it's not over," then the lightning struck.
After the exorcism the chairs were taken to a small unused room in the top of the church tower, 200 hundred years later [I scribbled out a couple of numbers here but seem to have settled on 1979, which makes no sense since I said this happened in the 1500s...] and the chairs are
Sister Hélène-Marie was attacked by the chair and flown around. (too dumb)
I wish I could just not think about Dave for a while. Everything and anything I do I end up thinking about him. When I do homework I think about Dave, when I watch t.v. I think about Dave, when we watch slides of animals in biology I think about Dave, when I talk to other people I think about Dave [...and on and on.]
Dave called me, goodie goodie. I'm really terribly happy now. But... (of course there'd be a but (and a big one too)) forget the but for now. I called him back around 9 I guess. He was... asleep. Asleep! All the energy it took for me to call and he's asleep.
Dave,
Okay, maybe I was about to cry when I was talking to you. And maybe I did cry, both times after you called. I'm mad, depressed and just plain miserable because of you. Everything does seem hopeless, especially with you, I just feel like I can't do anything right when it comes to you. It seems so difficult with you. I was just mad at you for selfish reasons that aren't even things that you can control but that's not the point. [Geez. Okay, so I keep saying "I'm mad at you because you're a dick but somehow that's NOT his fault?]
Dave went to church with me today. His hair. Well his hair is very interesting. He has proceeded to shave the sides of his hard head, it's just a mess. I can deal with it and all but... It's really peculiar. His newest hobby - biting himself. Everything just went wrong today, because of this stupid book.
He asked me something about us going out again. Of course I still want to, that's a stupid question.
He had a little problem with me in the car coming home but I don't care about that. But he did get mad when I was reading the book to Chris & Jess. But I can't blame him for that. I shouldn't have done it, it was pretty rude.
I've got to find out if Dave can come with us for Thanksgiving dinner. He says his mom won't let him go to his grandmother's with his hair.
Another bit down. I get bored easily. And I quit Facebook so I don't know who will read this now anyway.
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