I was angry when I met you. I think I'm angry still.-Garbage
Storm once again quelled. My thoughts are still trying to sort themselves out. I should be estatic. I should be joyous. Veritably bouncing off the walls in my euphoria.
Here I sit. Nursing a bottle of soda, just for the caffiene content, and attempting to stay awake. It's strange. Not the hollowness I used to feel. But not the burbling joy that I had before.
Dear gods. I think I'm maturing.
Sure, it was just a small spat. (Boy howdy, you should have seen the ones we've had before.) But when he said that he didn't mean any of what he'd said last night to me this afternoon, I didn't move on like nothing happend.
Something did happen.
I forgive him for it. Truly. It's just that I want an understanding. I want him to know that I hate being toyed with just as much as he hates it. I care for him, that's not going to change. There is just the feeling that I'm slowly losing him. That he's pulling away.
It's rare that we're together. When we are, it's short-lived. I wish I could be there. I wish that he could be here. The AIM screen is no substitute for hearing another's voice and seeing their tears.
It's all those little things that I fear.-No Doubt