By the way,

I'm really sick and fucking tired of women saying men are dicks, or pigs, or whatever other shit they call us when they're mad at us. In all honesty, I've seen more women betray men, and break hearts, and anything else they can throw at men than the opposite. I don't see why we go through all the indecisiveness, all the "I don't know what I want"s, all the breaks and getting back together, all the lies, and all the other bullshit that we go through, but at the end of it all, we're the bad guys. No more.

I hate women that call us names and point fingers at us.

Like you're fucking perfect, right, princess? Fuck you.

I wish I still had recess

I'd love to take 15 minutes out of my day to freak out and go play catch, or tag, or soccer, or anything really. I think I'm going to start a club at my school. Every U-hour, we'll have a recess that will last for just 30 minutes, or longer. Whatever we like. It'll be the shit.

Running.

Right now, that's the only thing that will keep me calm. Just because it's so strenuous, you can't afford to expend energy on anything else besides maintaining pace.

Tonight, I'm going to run until my legs fall off. Then, tomorrow, I'm going to do it again.

This blog will take me two steps backward.

It sucks to think that you would actually just give up, but I can't ask you to actually try and keep me. Considering what a piece of shit I've been over the years, I'm surprised I even have friends right now. Maybe you don't love me like you think you do. I've never seen you suffer through anything like I have to try and keep me like I did for you. But, this isn't about me, or who did what, or who did more. It's not that I love you wasn't enough for me. It wasn't enough for you. If you really loved me as much as you said, why couldn't you have just done what I asked? Why is it that everything has to be a battle? If we do work this out, I'm probably going to be the one who'll go first. If we ever talk again, I'll be the one who has to call you, or go see you. You left your house at 11:30 yesterday. I got home from Pauma at 7:15 in the morning. I spent the next 45 minutes calling you, our friends, and your dad, while driving around frantically, hoping I'd find you. I was worried. I always worry about you. But, sometimes, I'm not always worried about your safety. Now, I'm worried that you're at some other guy's house. I worry that you're spending the night with him, risking it all for someone you hardly know, but could never do for me. I'm not asking you to understand this, but you don't know how much it scares me, and hurts me, to know that you're not home, or someplace that I know you're safe. I must have called you non-stop for 10 minutes, and you didn't pick up. I doubt you were asleep, considering you were awake enough to write a blog. I ended up calling Lisa, Kim Nguyen, even Kim Loftis, and I already know she hates me. It's hard enough to deal with knowing that, but I called her anyway. I finally called your parents, and your dad told me you were at Laura's. I hope you really were, and didn't lie like you did before. It would kill me. After he told me that, and since I couldn't check for myself, I went home. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking, going around driving like that. I could hardly stay awake. Even now, I'm having problems keeping my eyes open, but my heart is pounding, and I'm having a hard time breathing, so I guess that might be something that's keeping me awake. Even if you weren't at Laura's, I guess you're safe. I don't know what you did last night, and I'm not sure if I want to, but I'm guessing you're okay.

If you're really going to stay out of my life, and not talk to me about any of this, then I hope that works out well for you. If you decide to do what I've been trying to get you to do for a long time now, I'd be more than happy to have that kind of good fortune come my way.

It's almost 8:30, I've hardly slept, and I feel like I'm going to pass out. I'm not going to sleep, so I don't know what I'm going to do next. I really want to pack my bag and run away. I don't think I want to be around when you decide not to be a part of my life anyway.

By the way, I always wished that story you wrote me for my birthday would come true. I guess there isn't much sense in putting all your faith into fairytales, but I still sleep with it by my bed, and I'll always read it when I'm feeling blue. It kept my demons away. All of them. You'll never know how much you, and that story really mean to me, but you don't need to. I fear that by now, any of that information is too late to do any good anyway.

Take care of yourself, Erin Kathleen Reilly. I never regretted a second of what we had.


Yours truly,
Omar Syjuco Goswami





P.S.: I love you too.