Saturday, 02/21/09 - 10:55 pm.
I forgot to say that, last night at the gig, I saw a guy about my age that seemed familiar. He looked like a skinhead, and I remembered he's the guy from the bank that managed the opening of my bank account for work. It was strange, a little like Fight Club. I'd seen this kid in a suit, in his daytime job, and now there he was at night, in a mosh pit.
Also, I went to get Mr and Mrs Smith their goddamn present. I went to a neat store and bought them a couple of comfortable pillows. I'm quite content with the gift. I wrote, "(congratulations, Joseph)2" -meaning congratulations to the square- and I added that stupid quote from "When Harry met Sally" about wanting the rest of your life to begin now with the special person. Now I just need CR to deliver it to Joseph.
And then...it's over. It's over for me. I'll stay away from him. Perhaps I'll contact him for christmas. I hate this, though, letting him go. It's like someone breaks into your house, screws you over and then goes away to go on with his life. You're left with a lot of damage that you don't even know how to repair, and some things can't return to their original shape after broken. Worse, you end up feeling violated in many ways and you know there'll be no justice. This person that screwed you is having a nice life.
Tonight I erased his phone numbers from my cellphone. But this wound still feels like new.
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