It's never too late.

And I mean flushed in the non-bathroom sort of way

Weighing my pockets with stones of longing

Especially when those days are Saturday and Sunday.

They always come crawling back

In a week it will have been 3 months since we broke up. So why am I not over this? Why am I still so confused? You'd think that by now all the sobbing, self-loathing, listening to monster ballads and weeping at their truth would be over. You'd think so, wouldn't you? I used to be so independent that I didn't even understand the point of relationships. I could reason my way through everyone�s emotional traps like some love-logic Houdini. But I just can�t make heads or tails of what is going on in my head these days.

It makes me sick to think that Joe was just toying with me, and I managed to screw over the best thing that ever happened to me, trampling hearts the whole way. I know it�s hard to remember everything that was going on between Theo and me at the time, but looking back I certainly come out of it with all the appearances of a sucker.

I had a dream a few weeks ago. It took place at a high-school-looking building; it was dark, like maybe there was a dance going on. I was walking through the hallway with Theo, and in front of the double doors leading to where the dance was happening were loitering these three hispanic guys; I distinctly remember one of them having long hair and resembling an asian guy I�d seen when I was stuck at St. Olaf. Upon seeing them, I let loose this furious outburst, shouting, �You fucking bastards!� and realizing I had witnessed them doing horrible unspeakable things. As soon as I�d lashed out, though, they turned on me, and I tried to back out of it, terrified of what they might do. They let it drop, but I started crying and getting sick because I was so upset, shaking, unable to handle my fear and anger and disgust. Theo came over and held my hair, tried to comfort me.

Later, awake, I was online, and Theo said we should talk. He kept saying it would make me feel better, and I felt my hopes stir a little bit. Then Suzy hinted that she knew what it was all about, but colored that revelation with phrases like �oh god, I�m sorry,� and �life sucks.� Needless to say, that made me apprehensive. I wouldn�t let her tell me anything. I wasn�t about to go with any false expectations, since they�ve brought me too much pain and trouble already. I fussed and fidgeted for a minute before heading over. I asked Sierra, �Do I look okay?� What I didn�t say was, �Because if I�m about to get my heart broken, I at least want to look good doing it.�

The talk wasn�t so bad. Weird, but not awful. Apparently Theo thought I�d been stressed out and depressed because of rumors that he and Lauren were getting together. I�d heard nothing, so I didn�t know quite how to act. I was surprised, in a lot of ways. I figured Lauren had caught on to how I was feeling about everything, and having had roommate-romantic-interest issues before, I thought she�d have stayed as far away as possible. But emotions hardly ever follow guidelines or lessons from past experience. I obviously couldn�t blame her for liking him, and telling anyone you�re interested takes a lot of courage. But it was still hard to wrap my brain around it. I didn�t even think they knew each other that well.

So the talk itself wasn�t bad. I was amazingly cool and collected, for me. Not even a sniffle, even with those fateful words, �I�m ready to move on.� I was proud. It�s very strange for me to deal with this whole weak and crying thing. I�m sure Theo would never believe it�his entrance and exit in my life have kind of marked the age of tears, this span of years full of emotional upheaval in every direction. I used to be stoic. I never cried. Very rational, solid, grounded. A far cry, pardon the expression, from what I�ve now grown accustomed to. A hard transition, I�ll admit, and one I�m not too fond of.

A few nights ago, everything buried me, taking me completely by surprise. I was about to go to bed, and all of a sudden it was like all the emotions that had been creeping out over time surged up and swept over me, knocking me down and pulling me into the undertow. I tried to stay in bed, but I was afraid of waking my roommates. So I got up. Went into the other room. Curled up on the futon, and gave in.

I hadn�t cried that hard since that night with grandpa... God, I haven�t really even talked about that since it happened. And even then it was stammered semi-comprehensible syllables punctuated with sobs. We didn�t really have time to talk it out since everyone was so exhausted, and the coroner came the next day. I remember my parents just sort of crushing me into silence�I think they intended to make the words unnecessary, but it may have just done more damage. Realistically, though, no one was in a position to discuss it. I can see the parallels between the two. That same horrid guilt eating away at everything inside you, that torturous truth of not being able to go back.

I remember at one point holding my forehead, feeling how hot and fragile it felt, like the skull of an infant. For some reason, that just made me cry harder. It�s amazing how much physical effect emotions can wring out of you. My hands ached from clenching, and the whole intensity of my reaction was so forceful that I started throwing up. I snuck into the bathroom, but eventually crawled back to the secluded darkness of our room. I just clutched a pillow and crouched over the trashcan.

I was wracked until about 4:30 before I calmed down enough to make my way up to my bed. The next morning I scribbled a few notes of things I was thinking. I couldn�t believe I�d ever get over this. I�d just have to learn to ignore how much I hate myself. I was torn between wanting to give him freedom, give him the space to make up his own mind about how he feels and what is best for him, and wanting to fight to get him back. I really wish I could undo so much, just go back on my knees... But then the rational part of my brain kicks in and says, you gotta face up to what happened. And live your life. Apart from all the other reasons why I want to be with him (that he makes me happy, that I miss how comforting and exciting he was, how much I want to make him happy), I need to prove to him that what happened is not me. I don�t want that to be the last thing he thinks of.

But maybe his thinking of me as a heartless fickle girl is preferable to the obsessive clingy, blubbering psycho I sound like here. Ugh. Every way I look at this I�m disgusted and afraid of how I turn out.

The thing that gets me is how much of this whole situation was built on misunderstanding. What if I hadn�t convinced myself that Theo wanted to break up? If it had been anyone else, would it have been �just a kiss�? Had I not started with, �So I�d been thinking about us seeing other people,� could we have worked through it? Maybe it�s just because he�s the first person I�ve really been this involved in, but I�m terrified that I�ll never find anyone like him again. And a big part of me doesn�t want to settle for an attempted replacement. It just doesn�t make any sense... It was all such a huge mistake, and if he still cares about me like it sounded like he might be able to, why be apart? In reality, this may be our last chance to be together. Who knows where we�ll end up after graduation? And what valuable experience can we hope to glean from the last weeks here if we�re just hitting-and-missing with senseless short-term possibilities? Even if he isn�t in love with me anymore, I�d give just about anything to show him where he stands. To make up for everything. I know how good it can be, and what better way to leave things? It doesn�t have to mean long-term commitment, just making the most of the little time there is left. Three months of hurting feels like too much. When will my penance be done? I don�t want to be left here.

Then again, he said he�s ready to move on. He touches me less now than he did when we were first becoming friends. God shouldn�t allow us to chase away those that leave us feeling so empty.

So much for indifference at 1:01 a.m.