Woke up this morning thinking about a girl I haven't heard from in a while. We're technically still dating, but the silence, I think, has spoke nof a desire to be rid of me. I've done the full gamut of emotions regarding this. I've been sad. I've been angry. Now, I'm waking up in the morning, after oversleeping by nearly two hours, with "Hold on" by Tom Waits playing in my head, a clear sign that I'm being tortured in some way, most likely by myself. I don't know where she is. I don't know what she's doing. I only have the loosest bits of data to confirm that she's actually alive and well. This bothers me. All else aside, I still care about this one. After being together, off and on, for the last four years, I would have to be completely self-absorbed not to.
That's it. No poetry. No elegant prose. Just a confession to the blog before I go off for another mindless day at the RU Bookstore. This job will be over soon, and I frankly can't wait. My life is leaving me, one misspent hour at a time.