I woke up with a very funny image in my head.

Alan with a giant smile on his face jumping with his thumbs up.  Is that someway of telling me “Everything will be alright?”  Damn that sounds so emo haha.  But really, that image was funny.

In addition he looked really good also.  I mean, I wouldnt go so far as to claim he’s “hot,” just a little handsome, is all

He probably won’t like that I cut my hair?  Does it matter? Not really. I mean, of course it’s important that he still thinks I’m pretty.  But other guys could take a look too, if they want.  I’m not limiting myself to one mediocre person, shoot.

I love him.  I miss him.  A lot.  A lot.

I’ve gotta learn to keep my mouth shut.  It’s gotta be restrained;  It ruins everything.

Leona Lewis’s ‘Bleeding Love’ is overrated, STFU kids.

I’ve gotten to the point where I would rather cry than be happy. He walked right past me today. Intentional or not, it hurt like a bitch. Actually, I don’t know if it actually hurt or if it hurt because I made it hurt. Like I think I thought about it so deeply so it would hurt me. I think that’s where I’m at and that’s not healthy at all. Im confidently happy one minute, and the next I’m back into my deep well of pain. Like Im just pretending to happy. But not really …? I actually don’t know anymore. I can’t wait to get through this. I think the first step is admitting that there is something amiss. No repressing it, no denying it. I have to actually come to terms with the fact that this situation has left my heart broken into a million pieces. Sometimes I think that the more I say “I’m happy” eventually I’ll be convinced that it is such and I actually will be content. But that’s not the case because it only leaves me with temporary satisfaction.

Step 1: Admitting I am Heartbroken.

Step 2: Talk about it.

I’ve done too much of that in the past three months, really I dont think I’ve said all I’ve got either.

Step 3: Learning to be happy on my own?

…Actually I think that singing will be the long awaited ventilation that I have been searching for. Im auditioning for Vocal Pro, & I hope I don’t suck. I hope my voice doesnt play against me on Monday. & if it goes well maybe I’ll ask around for bars who need singers. I mean, I dont think I can do that til I’m 18, but I’m sure somewhere out there there’s like a dinner place that needs a singer, right?

Step 4: Move on.

You know what I do? I talk to random guys hoping that maaayyybeeee I’ll like them. JUST MAYBE. You know, maybe they make good conversation. It never works. I can’t pretend to like a guy. As I’ve been told, I can’t go around looking for love, it’ll find me. That’s always what happened. I found Alan unexpectedly. UNEXPECTEDLY. It was perfect, but I can’t reminisce now, it’s anachronistic. (I am consciously using the word “anachronistic” wrong. What I mean is that it just doesnt match the general feel of this blog.) As much as I’d like to write this blog about all the good times and how infinitely sweet my baby was, I can’t. I dont want to say that I’ll make better memories with a better man. Because then it would pain me to even think about him making better memories with another woman. (Notice how I didnt say “better woman.” It’s that painful.)

He walked right past me today. I didnt notice he did until I saw him walking from 20 yards away.

I don’t make him sandwiches because I’m trying to win him back. That is the least of my concerns.