"Face or kneecaps"

Come on. Hit me with your best shot. I'm down and you won't get a better shot than this one.

Maybe it isn't entirely her fault that everything I see her do or hear of her doing disgusts me. Maybe I'm just emotionally overdriven enough to transfer the pain into anger. The only thing I can hope is that what happened to me, what she did to me, helps generate awareness of her game to everyone.

I've already struck chords to the last song I'll ever write about you.

And 2001 alone has more than the number of one-liners you deserve.

So, as a final thought, I hope that every time you get your heart stomped on... every time you get led on or played... I hope you stop and realize that he isn't me. That he isn't half of me.

But enough of that. Only a week or so left in this semester. How wild is that? I remember so vividly this time last year. Preparing for prom, graduation, summer... worrying about high school problems. Well, I suppose that some things aren't so easily changed. But I don't really feel any smarter. Maybe it'll take a couple weeks of being apart from the classes and exams and homework and the fucking Birch Tree Inn cafeteria food for it to set in. For me to feel whatever wisdom I'm supposed to have garnered. It's not over yet, though. My nostalgia is premature.

The single/uncommitted/untethered gauntlet isn't the worst thing in the world, I suppose. There's always that promise of chance meeting, of aligning availability and interest. It all boils down to that "hope" thing, as it tends to. But I guess I'm okay with that. What else have we got, right? It'll take some time to trudge through the doubt and cynicism though. My self-esteem isn't the quickest at recovering. But refusing to hide the cuts- by letting them run in the rain- I think that'll help. I think I'll be back to my swagger before too long, so to speak.

And I'll be ending one of the worst weeks of my life with some of my best friends. Tomorrow we drink in celebration. There's no drowning on Cinco de Mayo.

So no. Everything isn't back to normal. It won't be for a while. Everything isn't forgotten. Forgiven, perhaps. Each of our greatest weaknesses is our humanity. And that's what she is. She's human. And so am I. We'll always have that. We'll all always have that. So I guess everything is okay. Life is okay.

I am okay.

Bomb the Blogosphere,
Mike