May 25th, 2002 - 8:19 p.m.

Why don�t you just fuck off, eh? Eh?

Memories of a first love. Sickeningly sweet. All that yearning. All those whispered ideals. That reaching, stretching, grasping for perfection. All those clumsy moments. Fumbling in the dark. Overheated kisses in the summertime. That desire to hang on for just one second more. For the other person to be in the room, just for the presence. All seems so childish and grotesque now. I am sure you have felt similar at some point in your life.

How could I be so immature to think that another person could make me feel complete?

M. had said, back in the last century, aeons ago, that she would be thoroughly depressed if things were to dissolve. M., are you thoroughly depressed?

Oh, and she is not in love again. Turns out it was just a case of indigestion.

N.

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