2001-09-17

I need to talk to you. I just don't know what to say. I wish you'd call me but I'm not sure it'd do any good. Anyway, you have my phone number. Good. Even if you never called. Because I think I know why. It was good to talk to you on-line. It must be a year since I last did that. I wish you'd get out of hospital. I wish you'd feel better.

I love you, of course. Sometimes I wish I didn't, but I do. You still make me laugh. And you still make me warm. I know it's not much, but it's something. It's more than I thought. I was so sure I didn't care about you anymore. And perhaps, on some level, I don't. Things are easier now than they were last year. I think I can live without you. I know that. I also know that you're just as valuable as a friend as you would be as a lover. That's what makes it easier. And anyway, I know you wouldn't ever love me the way I sometimes have hoped you would. And it doesn't hurt anymore. It doesn't matter anymore.

I feel better about my life than I used to. Even if there's nothing to look forward to. Even if I hurt a lot sometimes, and even though I'm still depressed to some degree.

Oh, I'm sick of this.

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