sister don't reduce yourself

tnb's off on an emotional bender he's in a bad way he's acting like a thirteen year old girl slave to her hormones caught on the tumult rollercoaster of estrogen and breasts and bobby from fourth period math class.

that is, i haven't seen him in over a week 'cause he's "in a bad way" and he's doing the thing where he says he's going to call me back and doesn't and he's out getting drunk with his buddies every night and i get seven minutes of conversation a day and he warned me that he's moody so really i can't complain, can i?

fuck that.

he needs to shake his head and realize that i'm the star of this show, and he's just the romantic interest.

i beat the shit out of myself wondering what i've done wrong. you can't tell me that it's not me it's him 'cause i'm a bit ocd and that means everything including my relationships and if there's something wrong it must be my fault and how can i reorganize to make it all line up in perfect little rows?

this is the point where i look into the camera and have one of those little monologues where i address the audience about how i feel, and all the men fall in love with me and some of the women too (the rest wish they knew where to get my snappy pink jacket and what hair products i use to get such a shine) and everybody's shaking their head thinking 'why doesn't she just smarten up? there's that other handsome man who thinks the world of her she should just head on over to his place and make crepes and drink expresso and talk about music and literature and maybe have a heated philosophical argument which can only be resolved in a hot sweaty body slapping beneath the blankets fashion?'

well, cause that's hollywood and this is the real world and in the real world there is no other handsome man.

at least for now.

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9fourteen a.m. update -

i just received an email with the following subject line:

"jesus invites you to join myspace".

that's gotta be a sign.