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I hate that directly after he crushed my heart, he said, "I know I just crushed your heart."

Directly after the terrible sinking feeling happened in my chest, he said, "I know you just got that terrible sinking feeling in your chest."

When I started crying, trying to keep from making noises over the phone, he said, "I know you're crying. And I know you'll have trouble sleeping tonight, and tomorrow will be awful. But, I'm sorry, Carie. I don't want to hurt you."

And as hard as I tried, I couldn't be angry. I couldn't make myself hurt enough to feel hate and hang onto that hate to get me through to the empty feeling everyone eventually has for someone they cared for who didn't love them back. Instead I just felt sad.

So I got into it.

"I know most people don't do things because they're scared. I know that you don't want to do this because you are afraid. And, I'm sorry that you've been hurt so badly, you can't imagine going through that again. I'm apologizing for her."

And in the end, after he told me he was sorry he let the thing* down, I said I wasn't ready to give up yet. As stupid as that sounds. As stupid as that is, given how many times I've held out with hope and ended up with nothing, as many times as I've ignited myself, only to watch as no one stops to put me out.

Because I could stop now, cut my losses, and have my first What If hanging over my head.

Or, I could keep going. Letting this evolve, devolve, into what ever it wants to be.

"Is it okay if I'm not ready to tell you to fuck off yet?"

"Yes. I admire your stick-to-it-tiveness, Carie."

. . .

* thing = lightning bolt like attraction, combined with breath making me feel like melted marshmellows, combined with making me laugh, combined with accidently calling me "Sweetie", combined with being smarter than me, combined with sarcasm and impossible standards

8:56 a.m. - 2003-12-07


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