Feeling: lost
Listening to: air
Reading/Watching: Skybowl

I got home, and couldn't explain the odd feeling in my chest. It's like I've been trying too hard to convince myself I'm happy, I'm good, I'm over certain things.

I called Quincy, hoping his voice would somehow help; would soothe me, would remind me that someone cares about me. And he tried. He said he'd missed me (in 24 hours?!), we talked about our evenings, we talked a little about the concert tomorrow night.

I wanted to feel how much Quincy cared, to know that at least someone does. But every time he called me "baby" I wanted to hang up the phone. Because he shouldn't be the one saying it. And the harder I listen for it to sound right, the worse I feel.

I still love *him*. Goddamn him, but I do. Or maybe it's goddamn me.

We had a waiter tonight that was cute and funny in an elusive way, and I couldn't figure out who he reminded me of. I just realized; it's Charlie Brown. It's CB, when we were still friends, when he was witty and clever and fun and I thought he was everything I'd ever wanted. Before I found out how terribly wrong I was.

I seem to find out I'm terribly wrong about a lot of things.

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