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The Mad Poet (nazi_requiem) wrote,
@ 2003-08-02 11:19:00
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    Current mood:disappointed
    Current music:Rhapsody--Rage of the Winter

    Every time I think about updating this journal, the internet crashes and I lose my entry. I find it singularly frustrating.

    My cat Iieata--the small one, her viciously imperial majesty with the sharp claws and drowsy eyes--turned up missing, and has been found again. I turned my town upside down trying to find her, scoured the pound. In the end she simply trotted back through the door on her own though, superior as ever, and I think that's the only way it could have happened, really. She wouldn't come back, after all, until a panic had come up over her absence. It's just the way she is.

    And let's see. . .oh yes. My good friend Fish and dear Rian are seeing each other, now. Quite the happy couple. I can't help but wonder if I would know if Fish had been aware that Rian and I were together, or if I would still be in the dark. I can't help but wonder if they were like this last month, when I called Rian on her birthday. Or even before, when Fish talked about how well she and Rian were doing--did she mean as more than friends? In the end love is stupidity, pure folly. To hell with the pleasantries though.

    Love is such a goddamn foul thing. Affection is just as bad, and friendship. Nothing more than a sick joke, all of it--I cannot become close to anyone without hating them. Anyone. Not even the people, or the person, I thought might be different. Am I naive? Was I? It isn't the fact that she has someone else now, or even that this someone is a close friend of mine. They are, after all, wonderful people, and I am happy for them. I hope things are perfect. The part that hurts is the lie, the deception--she could have told me. I don't think I even really loved her. But she meant something to me, and she was important to me, and she said that she loved me but I think in all likelyhood that she lied about that. When you love someone, you at least have the decency to tell them they are old news.


    I have to go. There are things, apparently, which require my attention right this very moment. Maybe I will come back later.



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