Void of Space

She'll never write me back... probably never call.

Maybe mom's right. Maybe...

Maybe I should change the addy to this. Whatever I write, I end up getting notes and e-mails that say good-bye.

Good-bye's are forever, you know. Usually, anyway.

I don't think I'll ever hear her again. I don't think I'll ever see her again.

Becca drew a picture of Beau today. I saw it, went into my room, and cried. I cried over loosing him... I cried over being left. Again.

That's it. I'm gonna live a life of chastity and never get into a relationship again (or try to), never fall for someone again.

... But I think if I did that, I'd commit suicide. That's almost tempting. But I think I'd rather run instead.

She doesn't know... any of it. Not the pain, not the emptiness. Mom is saying she played me... that she probably really isn't calling. "If she didn't actually call you on the phone to tell you any of this, I don't think she means it."

I don't want to believe her.

I think she was joking when she said she'd "send me a bus ticket." I tried asking mom about what my chances were of my being able to go down to Denver for a Pride Fest, and I highly doubt she'll let me go.

Can't wait to graduate. Then I can finally leave. I'll have no reason to come back. I won't come back.

I should be angry at her, for the note and for putting me through this and breaking promises. But I can't... I can only be depressed. And angry at myself, for letting this happen.

I wonder how fast I can get this address to change...