I wrote an entry before this and deleted it a few minutes ago because it isn't true anymore. Because I feel like I'm on a freaking rollercoaster all the time and I hate rollercoasters and once again, just as I was ready to FINALLY give up, he turns around and pulls something that makes me want to hang on for just a little while longer.
I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I'm completely amazed by how little willpower I have, what a sucker I am, how far gone I truly am. You should've seen my reaction. I wailed. Like, literally WAILED. I ran out of my mom's room and went, 'OH MY GOD! I WANT TO DIE!' My mom thought something bad happened to me. My brother actually came out of his room to see what was up; he never does that. Now my mom thinks I'm crazy.
I think I'm crazy.
Wait, I know I'm crazy. That's the only possible explanation I can think of to account for my wailing, my inability to stick to one decision for more than ten seconds, and the fact that I'm even typing this entry. Luckily for me, insanity is so a defence under...I don't know, some random provision of the Penal Code that I've obviously forgotten.
It was an email. Things would be a lot easier for me if he didn't bother with the email, but he bothered and that defied and exceeded all expectations. Like, I thought he was just another insensitive, self-absorbed asshole who only cares about himself, but that's not true, and you have no idea how much I wish it were true, at this juncture. It'd give me the perfect reason to forget about all of it and move on with my life, yadayadayada, but now I'm back at square one, staring at the weakling in the mirror, not knowing what the hell to do with her.
If there's anything about him that I'm absolutely sure of, it's that he's completely unpredictable. I can't peg him to anything else because to do so would be absolute folly, and so there's no point in attempting to do so. He burns hot and cold and it gives me the impression that he doesn't give a shit, and maybe he doesn't give a shit, maybe he was just trying to make himself feel better, but I'm sitting here thinking, I don't think that's true at all. I had no idea that he'd even care about what I said to him; I thought it was done the minute I walked away with my parting shot, "Enjoy the death stick." But he emailed me with an apology and somehow, that turned everything around.
I'm painfully aware that I really need to put my emotions on hold and stop letting them rule me all the time. Unfortunately, I've always been ruled by my emotions, which is why I'm here typing this instead of doing all the stuff I ought to be doing, like, oh, studying, for instance. I'm screwed for the exams. I'll deal with that later.
I think now is a good time to get so pissed that I throw up all over myself and start babbling my deepest, darkest secrets to whoever cares to hear. Yeah, I don't think I'd ever have a more opportune moment than now.
Actually, I'm kind of wondering: What if you wear contacts and you get drunk? How are you going to remove your contacts before you crash onto your bed? 'Cause sleeping with one's contacts on is extremely bad, especially for me, so much so that I don't even take a thirty-second shut-eye with my contacts on. Does this mean that I'd have to wear my fugly glasses if I ever decide to go out to drink?
Talk about jumping the gun. Once again, I'll burn that bridge when I get to it. I'm such a procrastinator.
I haven't answered his email. I spent the past hour and forty minutes letting it sink in. I think a part of me is still in shock.
Well, it's always nice to know that there's hope for humanity, still.
the title of this entry is from episode 3x05 of Veronica Mars