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Laughter. Ridiculous. I am not in love.
2003-03-28 // 12:36 a.m.

She reminds me that human beings are falliable, and that we make all sorts of little mistakes that are worth laughing at. I find it exceedingly difficult to laugh at the things I know I should be laughing at, and it makes me understand that each of us has our own special set of issues that we cannot escape without immense amounts of struggle.

I write letters that I do not send (this has always been the case, though on occassion they have been sent to unsuspecting people who find themselves agog at the contents--little heart pieces, clever phrasing, and silly sentences that say, "it's not that I love you, but I definitely like you, am interested in you, and want to know you better.") No one quite understands that I do not think I know how to be in love, and that I substitute feelings for one another all the time. I like her, intensely, but do not love her, because it is ridiculous for me to think that I could be in love.

It is ridiculous for me to freak out over small things, over 50 pages left to read and a desire to sleep or a tea kettle left going because it doesn't whistle. It is ridiculous, but doesn't change the way I feel: in love; freaking out.

There are bruises on my leg just fading, waiting eagerly for replacements, and I tried to tell myself I could like someone else if I wanted to. I can wear a short skirt and pretend to play games, but it's really just ridiculous. I should be laughing right now.


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