As predicted, I did not have what it takes to verbalise my thoughts (see two or three entries back). I tried, but I wasn't even sure of what I wanted to say anymore. I told him how sometimes, I cannot say what's on my mind because I can't find the words. He listened, and then said, "I understand."
As simplistic as it may sound, those were the only two words I wanted to hear. But then it was weird too. The entire time when I tried to express myself in spoken words. He was fiddling with the pepper/salt/etc shaker thingies and I got the feeling that I was flying solo at that time. I didn't know. I don't know. I forgot what I wanted to say as I wasn't even sure of them in the first place, and the things I did want to say I couldn't say. So I wrote it out. "Do you think we're working?"
He thinks we are. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I don't think so, but he guessed it anyway (and he still says he's stupid...). Despite that, nothing is resolved, at least not in my opinion. He said to tell him what I want him to do, but I can't, because I don't know it myself. I don't know what I want. I don't know how to change things so that we would work the way I want us to work, and how I want us to work, I don't know either.
This whole thing is, frankly, freaking stupid. In the end I just wrote, "I feel like an ass." He asked why, and I said because I started the whole talk thing and I didn't know how to end it.
And then he was like, "Okay, this is finished. End."
I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
Despite all that. When we start to make out, everything falls back into place again. Or at least, that's what my hormones tell me. Each time we make out, things get carried to a whole new level. The groping gets more intense, and here's the funny thing: he stopped himself without me telling him to, and I didn't want him to stop. His hand was down my pants, and it was painful, but I didn't want him to stop anyway.
I just don't fucking know. I'm quite confused still. I think I should do the talk thing with him again when I am more sure.
Or maybe not. I don't know.
But do I like him? Of course. There is nothing wrong with physical connections. I think I have that with him. But it would be so much better if this connection goes beyond the physical.
Or maybe it's just me.
Well, anyway. I went to school for the English mock exam. It was fine. I don't care about the grade, because it's not going to be counted. I did not overwrite my composition, which was about suicide. I have a morbid fixation with suicide. It was more intense a few years ago, and has long since subsided, but it's still there anyway.