He came over, and I let him, and we did it, and I was so crazy for him, and I cried about it and talked about it with a friend and thought I was better.

And now I’m going to go see him again.

She said that if he cared about me, he wouldn’t be doing this, because he would know how deeply I cared about what I did with him–that it isn’t just some dumb game, that I have feelings involved. It’s not even all his fault; I let him come over, and I even initiated some things.

But the fact is he went back to his real life; I’m living in a fantasy. I have been for forever, and I don’t know how to stop. Because I love him so much, or I think I love him, or I’m so emotionally connected to him that it’s all I think love could be.

Emo emo emo. Well I have a right to be emo. I’m with–no, you’re actually not with–someone who keeps me around to feel good about himself.

If I could have anything right now, it would be: a boy who really liked me, who I really liked back, who would go on trips with me and be proud of me and love me and take me out to dinner and talk to me and think I was funny.

So what are you doing chasing a dead end?