It's all over. All over my social networking spaces, and all over my face. I'm not in the best of places right now. I'm really at a low point, but, I suppose that's what's to be expected when the girl you claimed to love thought that you were getting bored and decided to call it all off when you were really having such a lovely time. It's a bit of a blow, and that's an understatement.

I suppose I've done my five stages of grief, and now I'm onto my own five stages of recovery, which seems to entail "listening to Morrissey, Bright Eyes, and Dashboard Confessional", "playing The Mars Volta loudly on the bass", and "eating a lot of bread and paella". It's not the best way to recover, but, when you're trying to get back to 'being friends', with a glimmer of hope that your 'bargaining' stage doesn't backfire and have her hating you, it's all I can do.


I wish I could write "In happier news...", but, I honestly can't. Sure, I've worked; sure, I've got University still on the go; but, there's no happy news. It's just one big ball of "Well, that sucks". Who knows, maybe in a few more days I'll be back to my chipper self, or, maybe not. Maybe I'll be set-in-my-ways, and back to being the mopey old me who wasted so many opportunities as a teenager, but, now stuck in his twenties.

Suppose now's the time to walk out, click that Publish Now button, and move on? Or maybe, cling on to the hope that she'll still be there in a few years, when there's no distance between us, and that she'll still have some vague attraction to me...