November 23rd, 15:10 | Damn you Lindt!

So there's a pile of Lindt on the corner of my desk and I do not have it in me to stop eating away at it. (There's a small, slightly frantic voice in my head that keeps bleating "winter's coming! you need the protection!" as I unwrap yet another little foil square and cram the silky, Swiss contents into my maw. I'd be disgusted if I weren't so busy making small, ecstatic noises of chocolate indulgence.)

And I have the nerve to rant at other people about self-control. Honestly.

Been feeling a little muzzy all day, despite my near-constant stream of talking/writing. (Let no one tell me I can't multitask!) I'm caught up in that weird limbo where I miss having someone to chat with at all hours, someone who's going to care what happened in my day, someone to check up on, because I am actually worried that he's not alright. I'm going through a weird readjustment where I have to make it about me, because if I don't impose this separation now, it's never going to happen, and I'm never going to start thinking of myself as, well, my self.

He sounded so taken aback by the finality of it -- but that's what an end is, isn't it? Yes, there will be Something after all this, after I've learned to not-care, learned to not-think about him constantly, trained myself to stop expecting that I can just call whenever because he's doing the same thing. There's no reason to expect that Something to be anything like what came before it though.

And I won't let it. Part of me is very angry, reading back through emails and remembering, angry that I made it so easy, angry that I didn't demand a bigger change. I refuse to let this friendship, should it ever materialize, be essentially like "dating" me without whatever physical aspect there was. Normally, I probably wouldn't be fussed, but there's this wall of resentment that's hitting me in the back of the throat, and I'm being spiteful and perverse every time I start worrying that I've made a poor choice by suggesting this hiatus, every time I worry that maybe he needs a friend, and I should be there, I squelch that thought with one along the lines of "well if he didn't fucking appreciate me while I was around, maybe he should just try life without me for awhile".

Mature, aren't I?

In the meantime, my predictions were wrong. I haven't busted out the Green Sweater (I haven't even done another huddled-up-in-hoodie day) and I haven't turned to my trusty industrial angst-rock. (Trent baby, it's not that I don't love you; I just think we both need some space right now.) If anything, I've actually been running straight back into the trusty arms of my pop-punk folder, and it's been fantastic (although I must say that nothing plunges me back into my aggro, erratic driving patterns quite the way poppy punk does). It hasn't been all sunshine, pop-punk and garage rock though. Some songs I still can't listen to without welling up with tears include...

IOU One Galaxy, The Ataris
Fairytale of New York, cover by No Use For A Name
Only in Dreams, Weezer
Just Watch the Fireworks, Jimmy Eat World
This Is But a Test, Ten Foot Pole
and Dido's Who Makes You Feel gets an honourable mention for filling me with a hard resentment every time I hear it -- not an easy achievement in a song that usually also makes me want to dance. (If you're going to listen to it, give it a chance; it has a really slow start. For dancing, think slinky hip-hop.)

I'm not sure where I'm going with all this. I don't like the person-mold I'm forcing myself into these days, not at all. As self-promoting as it sounds, I really do care, usually, and it's not like me to make myself refuse to step in and offer what little protection I can. When I stop worrying about the PR and listen to my common sense though, it tells me that this is self-preservation and also that there isn't anything I could help with anyway. If there's anything I've learned over the past two years, it's that the last person who should try to help you get over your broken relationship is the other half of said relationship.

So, I guess I'll stick to my guns, as fidgety and compulsively snackety as it seems to be making me. Although, if they don't have salsa classes or something on the cruise my parents are taking me on, I'm going to go crazy. So restless these days. I need to move. Tried to recruit my former housemate to come rock-climbing with me regularly, even though it makes no sense to try to start that till after I get back from the trip. Still, if I can drag her out of the house (she's been a recluse for a little while now) and out into the world again, that would be a good thing.

Mostly, I seem to be flailing around trying to find a direction for all my energy that isn't going to end up hurting anyone. Suggestions?

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