Ever since Shawna told me that cinching at the waist always makes you look awesome, it's pretty much impossible to not do it. But also thanks to Shawna, I have enough skirts that I can do it every damn day. And I have been. But I've also noticed an increase in leg muscle size, which is no doubt a result of walking three miles everyday. However, it's also made it so that my one remaining nonripped pair of skinny jeans are uncomfortably tight. So I haven't worn jeans in like a month. The times they are a'changin.

Relented to the pull of cheap cheap coffee near my class. God bless Andrew, the coffee man. I'm sure he has a much deeper life than that, but as it is the only context in which I know him, it seems appropriate. He's been there a while, I've gone there for the last few years every now and then. He is one of those people who is exceedingly friendly, and kind. Today he gave me free flavored syrup in my coffee and it made my day. I know that's silly to even comment upon, but it is a small reminder that there are people who are genuinely nice in the world and that not everything is terrible.

The last few years have been largely romantically uninteresting. That is to say, not much happened, and a lot of what did was regrettable. I walked away from a few situations with a little knowledge and some hurt feelings. Time heals all proverbial wounds, but without a sense of closure it's hard to fully let go/ move on.

The last one, the one who was a bad idea and an expected failure. He was someone I should have fallen for when he lived here. Left me with a very definite sense that we really could have had something. No closure in that suddenly, communication stopped. Was only a matter of time, because distance frustrates romantic feelings for those of us very physically inclined. He has moved on and I wish him well. I can't stop replaying our last encounter in my head, though. Our only encounter, really. It's hard to let go, because I wasn't rejected- not really. Fond thoughts always.

Then there was the fellow who reminds me too much of myself. I see many of my emotional highs and lows in exaggerated examples in him. Substance as emotional crutch, self loathing, constantly moving forward and onward to avoid stagnation. He pursued me. He came to visit me in the age before car, and our constant dialogue was both interesting and exciting. When we became involved, he was in the end throes of a long relationship that I know little about. I left for a weekend to go to NYC, the first weekend in a month we weren't to spend together. Was absolutely silly for him, bought him a print of an artist I knew he liked at the MOMA. When I came back, everything was different. I assume that for a time there, he became resubmerged in his endstage relationship. Brushed me off. Ended communication for the most part, but not completely. The cruel part of the way it trailed off was that not once, but twice he asked to come see me only to stand me up. Made sure not to make any plans, because I was excited. Though fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. The next time he tried to contact me, he seemed in earnest. Asked to come visit me that evening, but as fate would have it this was the night of my first date with H. Decisively responded with 'no' and didn't hear from him for at least a year.

He's struck up conversation with me recently, which made my heart beat quicker. For months afterwards, my friends had to clean up the mess that he left me as. Since he rejected me in such a flakey, roundabout way I never really let myself get over him. I thought I did, but my reaction to polite conversation has taught me otherwise. And the matter-of-fact part of me insists that recent conversation has been nothing but impulse on his part. He couldn't know, and if he did I doubt it'd matter. Bitterly annoyed with myself that I got SO EXCITED to hear from him for a few minutes.

Ghosts can talk, but they don't know they're ghosts. Haunt without realization. He'll forget about me again for a while now. I wish he wouldn't.

doin' the unstuck.

Making out is what I miss the most. All the other dirty things too, but that one most of all. Warm breath, lip biting and restless hands. The other-person smell. All of it. It's magic stuff that I dream about.

Was given some excellent advice by two classmate friends yesterday in regards to the fellow: sack up, if it's no then you no longer have to worry about him. So I initiated contact. Was not rebuffed! But I'm not holding my breath on anything coming of it. Still, new things by the day. Building a better me.

Got subpoena'd today. Was hoping that I might just be able to provide a deposition, but I will have to be cross-examined, sworn in and all that jazz. This is a nightmare that I was hoping was gone, but hopefully this will be the nail in the coffin on the issue. The most stressful thing is that I'll have to be in the same room as that... thing that did this to my mother. I've been warned by the District Attorney (who is prosecuting the case, no less) that eyeball's attorney is well known for winning his cases by discrediting the witnesses, the police and basically anyone bringing charges against his client. They warned me that he's a bully and will try to cut me off, will ask the same question repeatedly until he gets the answer he's looking for, and is quite generally a lovely person.

Also, a cute fellow posted a CL missed connection about me last week. It made me feel pretty special, and maybe I should have left it at that. Of course I contacted him, and we hung out briefly on Friday evening. After Friday I've yet to hear back from him, and I don't expect to. Apparently I don't live up to expectations. -pout-

So life is pretty great right now. Three 'till-midnight shifts a week, in a row. Starting today.

I feel so alone I sat and cried for a minute. At work. I still feel really alone. What am I supposed to even do?