Midterm Season Rapes My Life

Latin Civ: Over.

Shakespeare: Over.

Seminar paper: Am fucked for.

Roman Social: Um.. how long has it been since I've been to that class?

Yeah, I'm screwed. But as Lyla Garrity says, I made my bed. (FNL tomorrow night!)

I think S.W. and I are over. Prague plus my new social life (that's still kind of pathetic and nonexistant) have proven too much for us. But really, you know it's bad when people who barely know me go, "He really only likes you when you're miserable." It's true. I have a personality this year; I'm happy(er); I'm even doing well in crew for the first time since high school. And he can't handle it because he still has nothing. Not that I ever, ever want W.E. to be right about anything, ever, but his nickname for S.W. is apt: Tears. I called him tonight and he just sounded like a beaten-down puppy. In the wise words of Angela Martin, "Sometimes you just need to grow a pair!"

Why do I always end up the man in my relationships? This is exactly like me and B.T. back in senior year of high school. He went to college; I didn't. He wanted to talk every night and didn't want to go out and get a life; I had college applications and a second-place ranking to worry about. So I dumped him. I sound pretty blase, and I was. It's easy to break up with someone who is very far away (see also: K.N.). It's harder to do when you will see him every day (well, thank god for the lightweights' 6 a.m. practices! No shared buses!) and be around him all the time. It's harder when everything on campus will remind you of him. And when you still have some of his clothes and he has your books and iPod and a pair of shoes and your pillows still smell like him from the last time he slept over (was it really a week ago?) and all you can think about how is that yet another good religious Southern boy loved you and you went and fucked it up because nothing will ever ever ever be good enough for you.

I know this is unforgiveably melodramatic, especially since I'm only 20. But at least count I have had three Great Loves of My Life who all thought they would marry me and whom I hurt, badly, each and every one of them. So I feel like, after fucking with three separate guys' hearts, I am qualified to say that I am irrevocably fucked up and hopeless with love and destined to be alone forever. (I'm allowed to say shit like that. I'm grieving. Leave me alone.)

You know what's sad? I still sleep as if he's with me. Or I usually do. But today when I napped, I slept facing the other way, the wall. And yes, it felt weird.