Incoherant thoughts

He cares. He had to've. No one can fake caring that much. Can they? I don't know that there was/is a good reason that he hasn't contacted me. I hope he's okay. I want to call him. I want to contact him. A lot. But I cannot go back on my word. I told him to contact me. I'm tired of crying over him. That's what I did too. I would not hear from him, lay in bed and quietly cry to myself. Am I crazy? I really want to call him. Bad. I can't. I know. I said I wouldn't and can't. I love him. I love him so much. That's why I get so upset. Ugh. I don't know. This whole thing makes my head hurt. I just want things to be okay and I want him to be okay and I want us to be happy. Even if we aren't together. More than anything, I just want him to be happy. I hate seeing him upset. I hate seeing him depressed. I want him to get married, get a good job and have little Nathans running around. Maybe they'll even have cute little accents. *sigh* I don't know. All this thinking obsessing is going to kill me.

Did he ever really care in the first place?

Was ist die Probleme?

Ich hasse alles. Er macht mich so verärgert manchmal. Ich fühle mich dass kümere mich um ihm mehr. Er hat fünfzehn minuten. Bin ich ein Idiote? Ich beginne so zu denken.

In English: It still feels very much one sided.

Useless information...

I have now kissed 45 people. Woo. Lol. Here's the useless part, I'm naming off every fifth.
1. Ashley Russell
5. Jesse Ball
10. Damon Baker
15. Sara Pegg
20. Erik Check
25. Rei Lowe
30. Alex Diakonis
35. Aaron Bax
40. Josh Byrom
45. Name disclosed

I love how I have three girls in that. I've only kissed...*counts* six girls. Odd how that worked out.
I'm tired of waiting for...everything.

Methinks I see thee, now thou art below,
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb:
I dreamed my death tonight. While driving home I saw a car hit mine. I died instantly. I saw my funeral. I saw the reactions of those around me. Truly frightening.
I made a wise decision tonight.
I feel myself slipping. I feel the negative energy around me. I feel the tears behind my eyes. I feel it all and I hate it.
I've realised that I lose a lot of respect for being promiscuous. I make a lot of shit harder for myself and more frustrating because of this. But do I stop? No. I just go about my business and keep my thoughts to myself. Only on occasion does my promiscuity bother me.
I hate myself for the creature I'm becoming.