Friday, 12/06/02 - 3:20 pm.

I talked to him last night. It was great. He said he watched a movie about self-mutilation, and that led us to the point where he said: let's change subject. Apparently, he can't stand suicidal tendencies.

I haven't watched that movie, but he mentioned that the girl (the main characther, the self-mutilator) had a boyfriend who was only using her. And when he left her, she cut the most. I was dying to tell him If you only knew.... I was hoping he'd have gotten a clue from that movie...but I think he didn't. He doesn't know how I feel. He's never known.

Right now we'd been talking for about an hour, about travelling and shit. It was very cool. But then he got disconnected and hasn't come back. Maybe he won't.

I cut myself last night. But I didn't cry. I was happy. It was some kind of happy sadness, or sad happiness (*Simeon thinks to himself: err, I think it's the same...). Because...well, that's love. That's the one-way love, I suppose. When I logged off, I pretended he still loved me. And for the first time in weeks, I didn't cry in bed before I fell asleep.

It's hard to realize that it's not true. It's hard to think I'm really not missed. It's hard to think that I once meant something to someone -who happened to mean the world to me- and now I'm just another raindrop in the sea. It's hard to deal with this.

It's just hard.

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