Wednesday, June 30, 2004

On another note...

Sean. That cute little bastard Sean. Has he called? Has he fuck...

I've now given up all of the little hope that I had of seeing him again. I keep telling myself, "Oh, fuck it... It's his loss." I'm just not sure I'm convincing myself, let alone anyone else who is familiar with the full story.

I'm scared I'm turning into Bridget Jones. The only thing that is making me feel better are pathetic chick songs. Just not in the manner of sitting on the floor, alone except for the bottle of wine singing along with shitty old Celine Dion songs. Not for me, oh no. I hear the first few bars of anything too whiney or sentimental, and I just want to barf. Violently. I hate these songs; the only kind of emotion they elicit is intense anger. And this anger makes me feel better.

Is this normal?

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