This Doesn’t Deserve a Title

I woke up at my usual time today, even though I have been, unwillingly, waking up much earlier lately. Primarily due to family obligations, and this boy.

I still don’t know what I’m going to do about him. I’m starting to get the feeling that it doesn’t matter.

I just put on music. I’m using the pronoun I too much, my writing is halting. I’m out of practice, and moreover I don’t see the point in practicing. I’m frustrated with myself because I haven’t been doing the right things, the things that I know are right, lately and I’ve been blowing it all off, everything that matters, to do things that really, fundamentally don’t.

The boy mentioned something about that last night. I have a feeling he’s feeling the same way. I can definitely see why, I wish I were better for him, but I know I’m not.

You’re either a really good influence on me, or a terrible influence on me, and I haven’t been able to decide.

The boy, this weekend. What a fucking weekend it was. It was beautiful, too beautiful. I meant to have him open up to me, instead I just dissolved. That’s the way it always is, with everyone, but especially with him. I wonder what kind of algorithmic content hierarchy is given to footnotes. I have to get back into math.

I just scrolled back to re-read, I shouldn’t do that. I’m using the small coffee cup, to take it easy on myself for not pouring out quite so much today, coffee or conversation. I picked it subconsciously, I guess.

There’s several things to do today, and maybe I’ll get some of them done. That would be cool.

Maybe I’ll even get in here to write again.

That would be cool.

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