Feeling: frustrated as all hell
Listening to: Three Days Grace - I Hate Everything About You
Reading/Watching: --

I am so tense and edgy. I know exactly why, but I hate it all the same.

Grades are due Friday, contest is approaching, we have an opera broadcast on Saturday, and I have an important audition on Sunday. I cannot think about anything but Sandman, because I'm just that particular brand of pathetic.

It makes me snappish. It makes me cry. It makes me feel crazy and clingy and stupid, because for God's sake, he's just a boy. He's not Jesus or something.

I haven't let myself call him since we saw each other on Sunday. I have another one of his shirts that I found in my drawer, and I need to get back some papers that he had stored in his car. I kind of need to talk to him, in order to get those things done.

But I still cringe away from being the crazy clingy ex-girlfriend who can't get over it. Bad enough I'm still crying myself to sleep, three nights later.

This morning, I fed the dogs, and put them in the backyard with a bowl of water. Despite the 50-degree weather, I thought they'd prefer running around to being in their kennels. On my way to school, rain started sprinkling on to my windshield, and my instinctive thought was, "I need to call Sandman and ask him to let the dogs inside when he gets there."

Because, you know, he always goes to crash at my place after work, so he can see me for a few hours on weekdays. Or at least, he did... before he dumped me. Now I don't know what I'm allowed to ask him. I don't know what I'm allowed to want from him. I don't know what I can say, or do, because my instinct is to grab hold of him and demand answers that he wasn't able to give Saturday, or Sunday.

He doesn't know. He doesn't understand, he just has this gut feeling. And he's running away before it goes bad, so that we can stay friends. But my uncertainty of the boundaries is ruining the friendship before it even begins. And my heartbreak makes it impossible for me to be objective about anything.

I want to call him. I want to call so badly my fingers twitch toward the phone when I think of him. I have picked up the phone and put it down ten thousand times in the past three days. There are three unsent text messages in my Drafts folder, where I went so far as to type something out before regaining my senses.

I just don't know. It feels so tenuous, and when there's so much at stake, I don't want to so much as move. I don't want to screw it up any further than I already have, even if he swears it wasn't my fault. I don't want to be crazy clingy ex-girlfriend and convince him that he got out just in time.

And so I sit here. Twitchy, tense, and edgy.

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