{~]
July 28, 2008
A lot has changed since I last posted here, mostly being that… well… I’m not seeing you. And now you have no phone and no internet and if I can’t talk to you for REAL, I have to talk to you through this blog.
I have never felt more depressed/angry/frustrated/lonely/GUILTY in my life. I’m really not enjoying the feeling much.
There was a Sidewalk Cafe wrock show, and I should have been happy and I wasn’t and it just… sucked.
Highlights:
- Getting hit on by a drunk guy. It was like halfway through the Mudbloods’ set, and this dude kind of muscles in behind me. I figure he’s just an aggressive mosher and turn back to the stage, and then I feel his hand on my back. Shudder. I look at him and he smirks a mighty smirk, and all I can think is “Really? Is he really gonna do this? Now?” and he’s all “Sooo… you like these guys?”
Be still my heart.
I smile weakly (I was in a foul mood anyway) and give some vague answer and try and look elsewhere. He strokes my back again and I turn to glare at him and he tips his beer bottle in my direction, offering me a sip. For a split, miserable second I actually consider taking it, but this douche is clearly not a wrock fan and if I’m gonna decide to drown my sad sad sorrows, it will not be with a drunken creeper. Apparently finally sensing defeat, he shoved through the crowd some to work his charms on Lauren.
I’d have been flattered, in a way, had he not hit on every warm body with two X chromosomes in the room. - Me: *cuddles Lauren*
Lauren: “Hi! Why sadface?”
Me: “Hayley, ahem, broke her phone.”
Lauren: <=[ “Well… maybe… now she’ll be allowed to go to Terminus?”
… oh, how hope springs eternal. - My Half popped open for the first time in… well, since you told me. During Teenaged Werewolf.
- After the show we were overheated and hoarse, and I needed a milkshake. We go to a diner across the street. I order a chocolate milkshake. I get what tastes like car battery acid mixed with coffee ice cream. Request CHOCOLATE. Recieve concoction that appeared to be vanilla ice cream blended with Quik. It was a kind of horrible cap to a kind of horrible night.
On the train ride home, Amanda and I discussed flps and why I’m so damn miserable (feeling guilty over things I can’t control) and it became abundantly clear that I have a… well, a Saving People Thing.
Oh, the things we learn from books.
That drunky guy sounds creepy as fuck. Wow.
“If I drink *your* milkshake . . .”
No idea what flps is, or what’s going on, but <3333
Text/call me if ya need me.
So I’m in the Daytona airport with another hour to wait (my mom has a sort of… psychotic overprotectiveness, if you haven’t noticed, and she figures you should always be five hours early for everything in case the plane decides to up and take off without you), and Kelly’s computer has almost an hour left of charge. And there’s free wireless. So here I am.
I am so, so sorry, baby. Especially since you couldn’t just talk to me about it. My phone started acting up the morning of the last night it worked, and I kept getting old texts resent and things. I thought I’d broken it with all the sand and water and whatnot, but then Kelly was talking about how hers wasn’t working either. I don’t know what it was– we’re guessing our phone service. Anyway, I’ve texted you now, so you know it’s working again. But I’m sorry.
I’m sorryyyyyyyyyyy.
Oh, but if any good came out of the situation, I wrote like thirty pages last night. I’m feeling really, really good about it all, but there are things I wanted to discuss with you, my other half. I’m buggin’.
Love you.