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Well, if this isn't the fucking biggest case of deja vu...
Same shit, different circumstances. It's like a cyle. This fucking never ending cycle, but this time it feels different. Maybe it's 'cause I'm the one that ended it... That I didn't just sit back and let shit happen to me this time. And yeah, it kind of hurt, having George imply that I've let him walk all over me, like I'm some fucking doormate, but maybe she's sort of right. Maybe that is what I've done. But this time I walked away, and she's right. He's right. I'm probably better off.
So why do I still feel like shit? Why do I still miss him and think about him fucking constantly? Well, because I'm a fucking idiot, that's why.
Maybe I'm doomed, just like him, to be in love with someone who doesn't love me, for the rest of my life. Hell, it's only been a few days, its not like I'd have time to get over it or whatever, but I just don't see it happening. Because I know myself well enough to know I don't give up on shit like this. I don't give up on love. I let it ruin my life. Great, now I've got that to look forward to.
At least I don't look like a fucking zombie like I did after the wedding. No, I've made an effort. Hell, I even trimmed my hair. Surprise, surprise. It wasn't cathartic. I'm not trying to go back to the start by going through this symbolic shedding of my troubles. I just trimmed an inch off the bottom, showered, shaved, grabbed a decent pair of jeans from the box and went on my way. There's probably irony in the fact that every single shirt in the box this morning was white. Or maybe the damn thing's broken and it can't spit out anymore lime green. Who the hell knows.
I briefly wonder if it'd actually help to write some of the shit down that I'm thinking, but that reminds me too much of Logan and that stupid green notebook of his. I know exactly what he was writing in there now, and the thought makes me a little sick.
Mixed in with the copies of Mysterious Skin and Logan's show and Easy Rider (yeah, real fucking funny), I find a can labeled 'Night of the Living Dead'. It's the original, not that shitty color-remake, and I drag the projector out and set it up. It's mindless, and it reminds me of home. Of Preston, specifically, and that's somehow comforting, in a really weird way.
And yeah, it feels weird, sitting alone watching a movie when I've gotten so used to there being someone next to me. But I don't really let myself think about it. I just sprawl carelessly across one of the couches, limbs splayed in all directions, with Max curled up in a chair nearby, and watch the old sedan crawl slowly up the dirt road onscreen.
[OOC: He is watching the original 1968 Night of the Living Dead. Yes, probably seems a little odd at this juncture, but Neil's... odd. He's actually fairly okay, all things considered, and he doesn't look like the walking dead this time, so we're making progress. Open to all. Expect him to be a little quiet, but newcomers welcome. Oh, please someone who knows about what happened with Logan and his shiny new revolver come and tell Neil ... He doesn't know yet. >_> Joe? Duncan? Veronica??]
Same shit, different circumstances. It's like a cyle. This fucking never ending cycle, but this time it feels different. Maybe it's 'cause I'm the one that ended it... That I didn't just sit back and let shit happen to me this time. And yeah, it kind of hurt, having George imply that I've let him walk all over me, like I'm some fucking doormate, but maybe she's sort of right. Maybe that is what I've done. But this time I walked away, and she's right. He's right. I'm probably better off.
So why do I still feel like shit? Why do I still miss him and think about him fucking constantly? Well, because I'm a fucking idiot, that's why.
Maybe I'm doomed, just like him, to be in love with someone who doesn't love me, for the rest of my life. Hell, it's only been a few days, its not like I'd have time to get over it or whatever, but I just don't see it happening. Because I know myself well enough to know I don't give up on shit like this. I don't give up on love. I let it ruin my life. Great, now I've got that to look forward to.
At least I don't look like a fucking zombie like I did after the wedding. No, I've made an effort. Hell, I even trimmed my hair. Surprise, surprise. It wasn't cathartic. I'm not trying to go back to the start by going through this symbolic shedding of my troubles. I just trimmed an inch off the bottom, showered, shaved, grabbed a decent pair of jeans from the box and went on my way. There's probably irony in the fact that every single shirt in the box this morning was white. Or maybe the damn thing's broken and it can't spit out anymore lime green. Who the hell knows.
I briefly wonder if it'd actually help to write some of the shit down that I'm thinking, but that reminds me too much of Logan and that stupid green notebook of his. I know exactly what he was writing in there now, and the thought makes me a little sick.
Mixed in with the copies of Mysterious Skin and Logan's show and Easy Rider (yeah, real fucking funny), I find a can labeled 'Night of the Living Dead'. It's the original, not that shitty color-remake, and I drag the projector out and set it up. It's mindless, and it reminds me of home. Of Preston, specifically, and that's somehow comforting, in a really weird way.
And yeah, it feels weird, sitting alone watching a movie when I've gotten so used to there being someone next to me. But I don't really let myself think about it. I just sprawl carelessly across one of the couches, limbs splayed in all directions, with Max curled up in a chair nearby, and watch the old sedan crawl slowly up the dirt road onscreen.
[OOC: He is watching the original 1968 Night of the Living Dead. Yes, probably seems a little odd at this juncture, but Neil's... odd. He's actually fairly okay, all things considered, and he doesn't look like the walking dead this time, so we're making progress. Open to all. Expect him to be a little quiet, but newcomers welcome. Oh, please someone who knows about what happened with Logan and his shiny new revolver come and tell Neil ... He doesn't know yet. >_> Joe? Duncan? Veronica??]