Nowadays, I get this strange feeling. It's like I'm back in high school again, around the time I wrote The Gentleman. Maybe because of my newly developed circumstances, I am feeling this way; and it's making me sick. Personally, there are times I walk into heavy shit by accident; other times I waltz my way in there. But now, I find myself falling for this girl, who dates a guy who treats her like crap. And it ain't the fact that this guy, my friend by the way, is doing this to her that makes me pissed off, it's the fact that once again, I'm caught up in the mix that's pissing me off. I'm tired of being there for everybody when all they do in the end is tell me "the girl that finds me is gonna love me to death." When the fuck is that gonna happen, when everybody I know is happy? When the war is over, and there's peace again? When I go on a super-crazy diet like Gabriel, and come back two years later looking like Boris Kodjoe??
I mean seriously, I met my friend at Virgin on Wednesday, and treated her to Starbucks (being the only one with cash) while she sat there and talked about how her boyfriend has no emotion. Then, we walk all over the place until we reach the location where her job interview is being given. Wishing her luck, I stay around to see the results. And in typical fashion, though she knows the interview went well, she doesn't know whether she got the job locked or not. So to cheer her up, I buy some roses (what does purple mean again??). Oh God, that may have proved to be to my detriment, 'cause now I learn her boyfriend (my friend, by the way) doesn't buy her flowers...
Fast forwarding to Thursday, I meet with her again; she wants to do something after 7PM. So, I agreed to rendezvous with her in Union Square. We decided to see Chicago (see the prior post), and she is hungry. So with 2 hours until the movie starts, we raced to the Shark Bar (my part time sweet spot, and favourite restaurant) on Amsterdam and West 74th. I spent $30 to let her tell me that her boyfriend never took her to a restaurant before. Big mistake on my part. In any case, we saw and loved the movie, and we held hands. It was so romantic; but something was missing: she wasn't mine! I felt icky, but I still went on with it, because I loved being with her. We even caught the last R-train, so she can go home. And she felt so at ease...
On to Friday, the time before War With The Mirror was posted. I met with her, yet again; this time at Hunter. We sat at the computers, talking and talking, and about 2 hours later, she decides to see a small play with her friend; and I agree to wait with her until she arrives. A $13 trip to Starbucks, a 6-train ride to Barnes & Noble, a discovery through astrology, and an hour later, I came to the inevitable conclusion that this was never gonna happen. Not only am I asking myself to be with a girl on the rebound (if that is what happens), but I'm asking myself to be with a woman infatuated with someone else. Not again. Not this time. I am nobody's substitute lover. Or nobody's part-time lover. I felt hurt and vexed at the same time. And I refused to let her see that; refused to let her see me cry; refused to let her understand what I'm going through. Not that it would matter to her; she's still sobbing over some guy who treats her like crap. Her friend shows up, and they raced to the play (which sucked, according to them). Meanwhile, I walk to the Brooklyn Bridge/City Hall station in 23 degree whether, burnt out, mentally broken, and totally pissed off. How could I? How could I fall in the same pothole I was in years ago? Haven't I learned anything? Am I doomed to this state...

Then she called me Saturday. She needs to hear my voice, she says. We talk for a while. I listen to her eat; she listens to me fuss with my brother. It was fun. I completely forgot about how I felt Friday; I was just being there for a friend. And I was me again, whatever I was at that point...
I wish I didn't have to go on an on, but I will say it's a road I've traveled before. And shit is, I can't stop it once it starts. And all I'm thinking is, "She's not my girlfriend. She's not my girlfriend. Why am I giving a shit? She's not my girlfriend..." But I do care. And it's driving me up the wall. I wish I couldn't give a rat's ass. I wish...
Man, I don't know what to wish for anymore. I just want to finish college and move on to the next step. A car along that route would be nice as well...

For some reason, I feel odd just telling you, the reader, of my experiences. Before, I relied on the fact I never told anyone anything about me as an advantage of sorts; I had reverence or something. Now, I open up to a girl, I open up to you guys; I'm sort of losing that reverence. I mean, you don't know everything (what happened in high school; the names of these people I speak of sometimes), but you know enough to draw conclusions about me. I guess after all this time, I understand why I never spoke of my life to anyone, and appreciate it. However, I must say it feels good to let people know that I'm human too. And it is on this note that I end my post. Thanks guys; until next time...