You made it memorable, kid

For the first time in a loooong while, I can honestly say that... I'm proud of myself.

And it's not because I got off my ass and went for a HILLY 12.5 mile bike ride with my dad this evening, although that did feel good.

J leaves for school tomorrow, so it's fairly likely that I will never see him again. I've been crying myself to sleep (and plenty of other times) every night for the past four weeks, and at some point within the last 24 hours it dawned on me that this just isn't healthy. I know damn well that he won't make any sort of attempt in my direction, so tonight I decided I would get the closure I so desperately needed, regardless of whether he wanted to play along or not.

I sat down with a blank sheet of paper and a pen, and just started writing. I summarized my feelings for him from the very beginning, including some of the intense things I felt but never shared out of fear. Getting it out on paper felt really good. I closed the letter in a thoughtful way, which undeniably left the ball in his court. I told him that I cared for him very much, and always will. Simple as that. He now knows that if he ever needs me, I'll be here. At the same time, it's understood that there is no expectation of any future communication. All of this still makes me very sad, and always will, as it downright bothers me that something so close to me had to end up this way. Regardless, I clearly stated that the letter was my form of closure. Period.

I sent him an IM, asking if I could come over and just give him something. He said his cuntrag best friend was with him, and asked if I could just meet them at Starbucks instead of going to his house. Fine.

I was leaving a voicemail for someone as they walked up to my car. I hung up, opened my door, and stepped out. I said hello to the twat, who didn't even bother so much as a head nod. Whatever, bitch. I handed J the envelope, to which he flipped it over in his hand, as if looking for something on the back. Realizing it was simply a letter in an envelope, he extended his hand as if a fucking handshake was the appropriate way to end *whatever* it was that we had. I dismissed his hand and gave him a friendly (not a romantic, full-body) hug instead, simply whispering "take care of yourself" into his ear. During all of this he remained on full guard, never even smiling at me. I'm sure the whore to his side had a big part to do with it, but that's no excuse. I believe his response to my 'take care' comment was an unenthusiastic "yup" and before I knew it he and the bitch had their backs to me, walking (J walked, the cheap blond slut literally skipped) into Starbucks. I was already on my way home before the reality of what just happened sank in. Not the "it's over" part, I already knew that was coming. Just how... standoffish he was. A handshake? Are you fucking kidding me? I fucked your brains out on your parents' bed (twice in one night, thank you), and you act like this was a business deal? Way to go.

For better or for worse, it's over now. Nothing will ever change the fact that he made me feel *good* about myself for the first time in my life. Nothing will ever change the fact that he had bedroom skills unlike anyone I've ever met. Maybe that's all it was ever meant to be.

And on that note, I'm finally over it. Tomorrow I'll be making goodbye rounds at the company I worked for this summer and with two of my best friends here. This weekend I'll be organizing my stuff and packing. Monday I'll pack everything up in the car, and will have one last dinner with mom and fiestada before heading back. Tuesday... I'm outta here.

Two more semesters in New York, then I'll be an official big boy.

excitement + terror = today's sevensurge

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