vapourized

Fucking angst.

Sigur Ros tonight.

I've managed to make myself miserable. If things hadn't gone terribly wrong I would be there tonight with X.

Moping around the house sighing dramatically and making my housemates roll their eyes. As they should. It's fucking pathetic.

If I could just convince myself that she is not The One, this would be so much easier ... but no matter how much cognitive fucking therapy I inflict on myself, I still think that deep down, despite everything, all evidence to the contrary (such as the fact she is not interested) she is The One.

I'll be over it tomorrow.