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Saturday, December 10, 2011

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I guess when I'm always depressed and really need to get something out, I always come here. It's a last refuge, I think. A sort of, pseudo-anonymous place where I can just be. And, perhaps, that is the best thing about this place.

 

But, I digress. Today I went over to Molly's place and cooked her, and her roommate, breakfast. It was pretty cool. Fun. To put it lightly, I suppose. Anyway, the point is, I think I love her. I really don't know what that means, but it feels right. What do you call that longing to be with, or that feeling of actual connection. I don't know. Maybe I'm just making it up. But I do know that she's often on my mind. I care for, and about her. 

The thing is, though, she turned me down. I asked her out. Can you believe that? I actually got the courage to actually ask a girl out. Me. Social Runt and all.

Perhaps that does say something, that whatever this is, it's real. If 'I' could work up the nerve to do it.

 

On the other hand, there is Spicer. There aren't really any words that describe the 'feelings' I have for him. They're guttural, instinctive, and... . I don't know. I just know that I always want to touch him, I want to know about him, his secrets. Perhaps I see him as an enigma to be deciphered, a puzzle to be solved. Perhaps it is that scientist in me that wants to figure out how he works.

Consciously, though, it merely manifests as an intense physical attraction. 

And I love it.

 

And I don't know how the hell to figure out any of it. I have the intense physical attraction to Spicer. I have the intense empathic attraction for Molly. It's like my urges are split over gender identities, and I don't know what to make of it. That's not to say that the other forms of attraction aren't there, but they are dominated by their foils. Or perhaps that is exaggeration and this is all I want to see.

 

I can never tell if these little rants ever solve anything. I just wish I could talk to Molly about it without ruining my chances with her. And I wish I could just talk to Spicer without fear of him leaving, and never speaking to me again. I don't think I could live with that.

 

With that realization, I do suppose, then, that the 'something-akin-to-platonic' feelings are there for him.

Fascinating.

 

Ugh. I just need to sleep for a thousand years.


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