11:57 a.m. - 2004-05-01
*Regret*
I hate it when things end and there's nothing to be done about it. I messed things up all by my little lonesome. So in the interests of not stalking my dear one, and not irritating the brat pack with constant blathering, I start an online diary to rant. (Which is not to say I won't be nattering on to strangers over blaster shots, but this should keep it to a minimum.)
So. Every day for the last 13 days, I've woken up with my heart in my throat. I MISS him. I was drunk and behaved abominably. At least that's what I'm told. I don't remember a blasted thing. But if he can laugh about pretending he was an airplane and perfecting his falling technique that one time, what's the difference between that and visiting his neighbors at 3am and later on kicking him out of his own bed? Ouch. Rereading that, there is a pretty big difference.
I suppose the thing that stings the worst is that I've just given someone a truely genuine "bad girlfriend" story. It makes me want to throw and temper tantrum and jump up and down wailing. I've never been the crazy nutter before. Tortured artist, troubled poet, dramatic princess, yes. But all those exes still think I'm lovely and charming. Heck, I already have a waiting list for new ones. But as lovely an ego boost that is, I wish they'd bugger off. I need some perspective, and a major change. Years ago, after the one heartbreak, I made a list of what I wanted in a dear one. It's taken me 5yrs to find him, and now there's nothing to do to correct my mistake and bring him back.
As I've said before, there are far too many people in this world who aren't Eddie.
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