What fun, what joy, what the hell.

Well. It has been a fun week, no? Let me see, now what has happened to me since I last wrote? Spring break has since ended, and the most exciting thing I did was go to happy hour at Applebee's with my college cousins and one of their friends. I had water and mozzarella sticks. We talked about music. Wooooooot. I also wrote another stanza to the poem I'd been composing as long as Brian and I have been together. It was wonderfully epic, and I was so anxious to see him again on Monday, and celebrate our belated 6-month-iversary. So I see him at lunch, and what is the first thing he says? No, not "I missed you so much!" or "How was your break" or "let's sneal out of the cafeteria and make out". No, no, it was "I think it would be better for both of us if we weren't together anymore." Yeah. Mmmmmhmmm. 6 freaking months and five freaking days after HE asked ME out, he breaks up with me out of NOWHERE. Apparently he thinks that "we have nothing in common" and he "isn't ready to be in a relationship. Well, guess what, Brian dear, YOU SHOULD HAVE FREAKING THOUGHT ABOUT THAT 6 MONTHS AGO BEFORE YOU ASKED ME OUT. So yes. Everyone has been quite nice to me, and I get whatever I want in my "heartbroken state", but my life pretty much sucks. I said I still wanted to be friends with him, which I do, but can't even look at him without a] wanting to cry, b] wanting to throw myself at him, begging for forgiveness of whatever it was I did wrong and kiss him passionately, or c] wanting to break his stupid kneecaps. This is a problem, since I sit near him in two classes and have lunch with him every other day. How can you love someone yet hate them so much at the same time? I had hoped that once it sank in that he doesn't, and maybe never did, love me, I wouldn't love him anymore. Hah. THAT worked out well. I want to kill him and kiss him, all at once. Maybe I should become a vampire. I want to hurt him and hug him. I wish that he could feel all the pain and anger and sadness that he has put me through, and yet I'm almost glad that he is happy now. If he's happy. He seems happy, but then, so do I on the outside. I don't know. I have so many things I want to ask him, but I can't stand even hearing his voice. Every little thing brings on a flood of memories, from a snippet of a song on the radio to the paint stains on my floor from when I made a painting for him for Christmas...I've already burned every poem I've written about him and stored everything he's ever given me in a box in the bottom of my closet, but I can't clean out my mind. The thought that I will never again feel his arms around me or look into his eyes or smell his hair or talk to him for hours on the phone or discuss books and music with him....God, it's killing me. I'm trying to be strong, but this is beyond me.....I need a burrito.