Dear Diary, sometimes i start thinking about him. most of the time it’s just a fleeting thought, i can occupy myself rather easy, but sometimes i think about the time we spent together. i think about all the things i don’t want to remember. i thought too highly of myself you know? i thought i was significant and i paid the price for it, that’s just how it goes.
i just wish i didn’t feel so used. i wish i wasn’t lied to. i wish, i wish, i wish. you know what grandmommy used to tell me? “wish in one hand, shit in the other,” and yeah…. that’s what it’s like.
i’m mingling over the internet a lot more; it’s nice to have other social stimulation, but talking to people still makes me feel like scum. it’s a double edged sword. either i’m alone and uncomfortable, or i socialize and i’m uncomfortable… well guess i better start getting friendly with discomfort then.