Monday, October 4, 2004
I know you said that you grew, but it's not growing if you become narrower in your acceptance of others. I know you sent me an e-card, and I thank you for atleast thinking of me on my birthday, but don't you think you could have IMed me to say "Happy Birthday!" in person, so to speak. I said I would wait for you and I still will, but I feel sick every time I realize that I'm waiting for you to throw me the littlest bit of affection. I'm sick of your "I don't IM people" crap. I don't care if you don't IM any other time, but you think you could atleast put in the effort on my birthday. Are you still mad? What are you feeling? You don't talk so how should I know? You expect people to mystically guess what you are feeling and then get mad when they don't. Like if they really care they would know. Regaurdless of any sort of logic, they would know. Well, guess what... We don't know! But we want to. We would gladly listen to your pain and sorrow and joy and everything. We'd love to share all of that with you. But, I suppose you made it rather clear before that you don't really want us around, so I don't pry. I want to. I want to ask you how your day was and share little things about my life with you, but you don't want it, so I won't give it.

I dreamt that I was talking to you. I was crying and telling how desolate I felt inside. I told you about my anger, frustration, and hurt and you just smiled. This happy, pure smile full of understanding that you used to give me. Nothing cynical or bitter. You laughed a little at the notion that we would fight and you gave me a hug. It was soft and wonderful and it saved me. And then beatles came out of your eyes. What a nice piece of fantasy. If only it were true! (Except for the beatle bit.) // 08:53 p.m.