Thursday, June 21, 2012

On not caring

I met Alexander for drinks last night.

I don't care. I just don't care anymore.

I met Alexander for drinks last night because I was wearing a cute dress and I looked adorable and because I wanted to and because I was feeling so sad about The Coach that I nearly started crying at my desk. And those reasons are enough for me.

Because I don't care anymore. I do not care. About how old he is or that he's moving or about The Coach or how much sleep I will/will not get. I don't care about why I'm doing it or if it's a good idea or whether or not I will regret it later. I do not care. I cannot care.

All I have been doing since The Coach returned home is maintain a white-knuckled hold on to the idea of him. The idea of him isn't the reality and it also isn't the slightest bit of fun. I'm sick of being sad.

When I was with Alexander last night, I wasn't sad. And I didn't feel like an obligation.

That's enough for now. 


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