april 19, 2000.
I just about cried when I read that passage. Picture it: I'm sitting in the atrium during lunch break, just finished slopping away some left-over potato soup. There are co-workers scattered around and a bunch of vendor in the lobby like puppies in the pound. Very prosaic, very superficial. It's just that this passage is an articulation of everything I felt two years ago, right after Alexi had finally figured out where his best interests lay and I was trying to convince myself that I wasn't a faithless whore. Uphill work, especially when his friends - the very same people who used to be my friends - were so very ready to crucify me. Somebody had to pay for making a wreck of something that promising. I still give up a little of myself every once in awhile, my pound of flesh taken out bit by bit in hot flashes of guilt. I have only faded memories of that scarlet year. Yet I have yet to fully forgive myself for not being forever when I said forever.
A very funny thing almost happened to me. I was talking idly to the Boy this morning when it suddenly hit me that I hadn't responded to Acadia's offer of acceptance. You see, when I decided to go forward, I forgot that I had to tell anyone. Christ, we're this close to booking an apartment next to the campus! But the registrar was very understanding, and I can make it all right. See, it could've been horrible. As it is, it's just funny. Right?
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