“The funny thing about humans—I’ve learned—is that if there’s one thing we excel at—it’s seeking love from those who are least likely, or willing, to give it.” ~ Britney King, Water Under The Bridge
Backstory: Remember when I whined about scrapping a ton of words (60k, to be exact;) and how I wrote the novel over again using a different narrative?
Well, I figure those words don’t have to completely go to waste… and so I’ve decided to share some of them over the next nine weeks—counting down to release day.
Silver linings. 🙂
I’m in a horrible mood. The worst. The walls of this apartment are closing in on me.
I feel the voices, they’re looming, trying to settle in and make their home here. They want to talk to me—to tell me things— and I know I won’t be able to tune them out forever.
At the same time, I hate being alone. I’ve never hated being alone. Maybe it’s because of the voices.
I’m thinking of getting a cat. Maybe then, I won’t feel so alone. At the same time, I don’t want people to know me as ‘the cat lady.’ Everyone knows the end of that story.
To make matters worse, I haven’t heard from ‘Candy Ass.’
The dating books all say this is normal mating behavior—especially for males—but I don’t care.
He might be twiddling his thumbs. But that doesn’t mean I am. I’ve stalked him online and I can see that he’s still chatting up women. Just not me.
For his sake this needs to change.
If he’s playing “hard to get”— I’m over it. Games are for children.
I don’t get it—I considered our little encounter highly satisfying. And I’m fairly confident he did too. This makes not hearing from him unacceptable. Manners are important in upholding societal expectations. Clearly, he has none.
I realize now that if I’m going to keep this up— without killing someone— I’m going to need a set of rules.
Otherwise, all bets are off.
In the meantime, fuck ‘Candy Ass.’
He’ll get what’s coming to him.
They always do.