Dear Friend, When You Crash And Burn, Why Do You Always Live Through The Landing?

So, for all but Hope's sake, she's not interested.

I say that Hope hasn't been swayed yet because A) I made the cardinal error by asking via text, and B) She never actually responded to the aforementioned text. So the powers that be have insisted that I reiterate mine affections in person, and my hope is incredulously limping along for the ride because there are too many variables to be absolutely sure until I ask her face to face (although these days my inner psyche is just grasping at straws, and at this point I'm about ready to smack my Id...)

And yet I've begun already into the typical spiral of inner tumult guarded on all sides by facade upon facade, calling myself a fool for thinking she would ever say yes, feeling sorry for myself in the sorriest sense, and inevitably trying to shove my hope into the corner because it just makes me more frustrated.

And yet, after each fall I simply stand up, dust myself off, bury the tears deep, and keep walking...


See, I don't actually ever make an attempt to fix the problem. Romance is my uncommonly common cold. All I do is treat my symptoms, I never try to find a cure...and so I just keep catching cold, and I keep treating the pains, tying myself into a neverending cycle of tumult.

The only good that ever comes of this, I've noticed, is that through my repeated romantic follies, I've discovered my musical tastes...I can name the girl who introduced me to, or who I've tied to nearly every artist I have music from, and most of them I had a crush on at some point...

So here I am, listening to Transatlanticism, although I know that's never a good plan, simply because I need a sad song that came from someone I love like a brother...

December Band(s) of the month -
Waking Ashland
Jack's Mannequin

I'll post my desktop background when I reunite with the emperor, and I'll give you the full story once I've had closure.

Until then, I slowly slink back behind my facade

You're The Cold Telephone Pole To My Frostbitten Tongue

...

For some reason it's getting more and more awkward to talk to her...

I feel like all the wind has been taken out of my metaphorical sails, and now at lunch I feel like I've run aground, or rather that I'm just drifting, waiting for the currents to carry me as they please...aaaand I'm taking this nautical metaphor too far...

I don't know what it is. I still really like her. She loves all the geeky stuff i do. I can get all obscure harry potter on her, and she's still with me by the end of the conversation...she hasnt objected to drinking all my ramuné, in the end she's too nice to me for my own good, and somehow she seems to get more beautiful every time I see her...

Keep in mind this includes the usual smart, funny, pretty, sweet, etc...

I guess as my deadline for break draws nearer Im just afraid I won't be enough...

I don't know. Maybe life is just meant to suck...