I'm replaceable, like batteries.

Why am I so upset about this?

The best friend called yesterday, and at the time, I wanted to talk to her about all this. She asked how Joe Mac and I were doing, and I avoided the question because I don't know, I don't know if there's anything there, I don't know if there will be once I'm home again. We didn't talk long, she had to go because she and Chris were going out to eat, but she promised to call back, so we can make plans for her 21st while I'm home over break. And when I see her when I'm home, it'll be at the Soul Spiral show and hanging out on her birthday, neither of which are occasions where it would be appropriate to start crying on her shoulder.

I wish there was something there to be completely happy about, but there isn't. There's the chance, and the hope, and the fact that he used to 'L-word' in reference to me, and came to see me, and mentioned moving in together, but there's no commitment, and no guarantee that he'll decide to be the boyfriend who loves me.

The one I lost, he's the one who shared his bed with me when I had roommate issues my freshmen year, after only knowing me a few weeks. He's the one who watched Scarface with me the weekend it was on TV three times. He's the one who held my hair back while I was puking after drinking way too much on multiple occasions. He's the one who's listened to me talk and cry and bitch and cry and just let me be me since college started. He's the one I talk to for hours, about any and everything, without worrying about sounding stupid, because I know he won't really laugh at me. He loves my dark hair, thinks my obsession with Jake is cute, and my nympho tendencies hot. He's the one who raps for me, and I tell him he's the next Vanilla Ice, and laugh at when he's cute drunk. And for some reason, he's the one I walked away from, or let walk away from me. All for the chance and possibility that the guy back home may have grown up and decided to be serious.

I want to be with Joe, don't get me wrong. It's just that I know what it's like with him. The working late hours, and going out with friends when I can't go because I'm not 21, and the girls and the fact that he's a total flirt and manwhore, and everything else. I love him and he makes me happier than anything when I look past all that. It's the waiting for him to be serious and decide that we're for real that kills me.

My mom was supposed to call me this weekend.
My sister won't talk to me.
Eric went to get food, and won't be back, so I'm listening to the playlist he made me last year.
I should be writing my paper on how Barbie is a horrible influence on the body image of white American teenage girls.

"This just makes your decision hurt less. It helps that she's awesome, and she lives closer to where I'll be working when I graduate."

That sounds so fucking convincing.

When I make excuses for
reasons you shouldn't come
see me, it's because I'm
scared. What you should
have done all those
weekends, is come anyway
and made me not scared
once you got here.

At least Mac knows that much.