Watching New Moon on the Internet last night upset me, I think. All that drama and tension and those goodlooking people. Everyone was so poetic. And I want that. Which is stupid. ‘Cause real life isn’t like that. Boys aren’t like that. (Or else I have yet to meet one who is.) Boys in this town don’t look like Jacob Black or Edward Cullen. If they did, they’d know they did, and they’d be dickheads. And boys in this town aren’t that passionate. Though if they were, they’d be scary passionate and no one would want to be around them ‘cause we’d think they were stalkers or perverts.
Anyway, somehow, I do feel better today. I think it was the rejection that did it. For a second, it made me feel worse. Climbing back into bed and staying there forever seemed like a wonderful idea, and the only solution to the problem that is my life. But then, a second later, I felt better. It was the lightning bolt to the heart that I needed. I hate inertia. I would rather be angry than sad. And I’m more irate than either now. Which is better.
You let me down again. Wonderful you. The finality of your ‘no’ for something that really won’t matter in a year was a punch in the gut. Couldn’t you just humour me? Maybe I don’t want that though. I don’t want to be pitied. It shouldn’t be out of pity. You said, ‘Lovely’. Then what’s changed? It will still be lovely. You’ve changed.
Once upon a time you said, ‘I’m not there for you, Emma; I’m here for you’.