Never

Just passed 34 hours. It's like extended hyperventilation. I was driving to school, walking to the library, walking to class, watching a movie, giving the lecture, driving home, and always thinking what time is it. How long has it been? It feels like eternity. It's making me tired, making my class tired. Film Noir just isn't the same when you're sleepy. But I'm sitting there watching Anna Schmidt sacrifice her own life for Harry Lime, and I get it. And she doesn't care what kind of person he is, only that she loves him. I'm already falling flat without him to encourage me. Hasn't it been two weeks yet?

So I'm back here under my quilt, trying to take care of my feet as well as I know how, wishing he were here to make everything feel better and listening to Ani because she always seems to hit all the right places. And her tickets went on sale 4 days ago and I let it pass, because now I don't have anyone to go with me. It would have been fun. Just like Palm Springs would have been fun, and Lyttle Vegas, and the Marina hotel and the Newport hotel and Hawai'i and Paris and Napa and all the other things we talked about doing all the time but will obviously never do. Because those are things you do with girlfriends. And it is painfully obvious that I don't make the grade. Never did.

I had my phone in my hand earlier today and it killed me to not call him. Because I really want to hear his voice. I wonder if I'm doing the right thing. Because I don't feel better than I did a week ago. And I know I'm hurting him and that's the last thing I ever wanted to do. And I don't think these feelings will ever go away. The thought that there is someone in this world that feels perfect in every way will never be trumped by anything or anyone. Why would I sacrifice perfection for something else? Something else would only be a sorry substitute. It's better to be without. It's all or nothing at all. Half a love never appealed to me. (yes, I know I'm stealing song lyrics, but I'm heartbroken, so back off) I'm the hopeless romantic that believes in the starry eyed lovers that are a match made in heaven. I believe in storybooks. I believe in the beauty of simple love that doesn't need observers or proof or justification and it just is what it is. I realize I sound like a raving lunatic, especially because my storybook doesn't have a happy ending. But I still wish for things to turn around. I wish for him to come back and sweep me off my feet and say I can't believe I've been so stupid, what I wanted all the time was right in front of me.

But he uses words like Never way too often. We'll Never be together. I'm Never going to feel differently. Things are Never going to change. I'm Never going to be your boyfriend. I'm Never going to love anyone. Never, Never, Never.