Sunday, January 23, 2011


It being twinnyleven I used the Facebook instead of actual talking or writing a letter or whatever people used to do.  I sent a message to this guy that I'm afraid to like.

Maybe the problem with talking to him or saying anything is the writer that lives inside me and wants to edit everything before the recipient receives the message.

I hate talking to people sometimes because I can't edit.  I suppose that I don't misspell words when I'm talking, but that's small consolation.

In the end I think I'm happy with what I wrote.  Now I get to enter that period of waiting, hoping that he sees things similarly to how I see them.  I get to hope that he likes me and that I haven't frightened him off.  He takes my phone calls, so that's good, but I just don't trust myself.

I really do manage to fuck things up more than you might realize.  I'm probably ruining something right now even though all I'm doing is typing words and trying to manage to convey thoughts.  It's kinda how I roll.

And now all I can do is wait. 

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