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Don't tell anyone but......
Thursday, Feb. 28, 2002 - 9:55 A.M.  You know the good thing about a diary is you can actually go back in time and relive a moment or a day or a feeling or a thought. I was just now reading some of my first entries back in november and december of 2000. I don't write the same at all. I've gotten much more pensive. much more introspective. much more, not so much deeper but revelatory. So I guess it is sort of a catharsis. How fortunate. Except I find myself wanting to write so much more here and then I still stop myself. Why is that, well besides the obvious. I'm sitting here paying bills. Technology is so swell. But anyway I got this check from Capital One Services the other day for $100 and I was completely clueless as to why. Nothing came with the check, just a check for hundred bucks and that's it. I was curious. I didn't want to deposit, in the event that I might in a month's time discover that I had just agreed to join some service or other that might test my apartment for mites or something like that. So I sit down here at my trusty computer and start to pay my bills again and checked my payment history and the mystery was solved. Apparently in my enthusiasm to pay my bills I paid one that i don't even have anymore. Fortunately enough they were nice enough to send me money back. So now I have this extra $100 just floating around. That's fortuitous, don't you think. I'm supposed to be in class right now. Microbiology. Its a monotonous tedious class with a professor who is about as enthusiastic as one might imagine your run-of-the-mill, college microbiology lecture professor might be, so you can understand my urge not to go. I intended to go mind you, I was up and getting ready when the phone rang and it was that little devil that pops up on your shoulder when you have to make a decision. :) Okay it was Derek.
"Well I was planning on it?" "but I'm sleepy." he says in a sleepy little voice. "well you can sleep." I reply in all earnesty "do we have to go to COunseling theory?" he prods "I wasn't going to." I admit. "so why don't you just skip micro too." he suggests "okay." I complied. One might say he's a bad influence on me. I of course wouldn't argue the point. :) I just went through the image files that I have for diaryland and deleted a whole bunch of images. Most of the images were of friends who are apparently no longer friends of mine. I guess they weren't friends, but rather friends of friends or in some instances they were friends but decided against it. The sense of melancholy I felt, momentary, I assure you, was distressing. For some of them, i believe there was a potential for good friendships. Friends are the best things to have around! Don't tell anyone but sometimes I'm my happiest when I am with you. You make me laugh and think and I can't help but think how much you mean to me DOn't tell anyone, but when I am with you, I can't imagine not being able to do anything. I feel invincible with the world t my feet. Don't tell anyone, but the other night, you know that infamous night where me and the parking lot at Kroger became the most intimate of friends, I cried. I did, not that i let on, not that i showed it, not that I could share that with anyone. not that there was something that I could have voiced because "men don't cry." Its not true you know. Men do cry. Don't tell anyone but my friends scare me because they are so close to me and have the chance to really hurt me and can hurt me and sometimes I'm afraid that if i say or do something wrong, it deosn't matter how small, then they will look at me and I will see the disappointment in their eyes and I won't be this person that i am to them. Don't tell anyone but . . . What makes us who we are? I mean in all honesty, what am I the product of. My childhood, my present, my disappointments, my insecurities, my desires, my hopes, my wishes, my dreams, those I love, those I hate, my friends, my enemies, my heroes, my wants, my needs, my secrets, my revelations; what makes me, me? Who am I, to me? Who am I, to you? okay, I've blathered on long enough. I should go and do something porductive. Right? I told you it was all over the place |
