2:42 p.m.
It's been a long time now, and I still get the sappiest smile on my face when I think of you.

Who would have thought that I'd be such a fucking romantic? I feel betrayed by my unrealistic expectations, my secret (not so secret, now) addiction to harlequins, the way I casually ask if there have been any messages, my sudden flare of delight when I get emails, postcards, or phone calls from past and present loves.

I am a feminist. I am pragmatic. I am strong. I am independent. And I am one of the biggest romantics I know… it happens rarely, but it consumes me completely… I have always fallen quickly into love, riding only on emotions. I am in or I am not. I am not good at waiting to see what happens.

I'm not in love right now. I'm not even close. And I miss that wild elation, that electric awareness.

I want to fast forward my life fifteen years, just to make sure that I end up happy, and not living in a basement apartment with cats.

2001-06-28

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