I suppose I should just come out and say it.

I'm not worthy.

Sometimes they figure that out on their own, before it's too late. Maybe it's some little thing I say or some half-hidden expression I make. A frown perhaps, or a scowl.

But sometimes, sometimes they don't see this truth, or they see it but they don't recognize it. Maybe they just don't trust their own instincts. Maybe they still believe the lies that they've heard about love all their lives, the same lies that they keep telling themselves over and over.

The thing is, there is a reason that I'm sitting here, alone, at 1:00 AM on a Thursday night. Many reasons, in fact.

But sometimes they just don't get it. They think that the entire world has been wrong about me, and they think that only they have seen the real person lurking behind these eyes.

Sometimes they find out in time. Sometimes they find out too late. But they always find out.

I was right there, and yet I still can't believe it really happened.

I suppose it's partly because I didn't write about it that makes it seem so, I dunno, like I was dreaming all of it.

So I guess this journal is good for some things. If I use it. If I let myself use it.

Anyway.

I got so used to imagining certain things. Using fantasy to fill the holes in my life that disappointment kept revealing to me.

And then imagination and fantasy and reality collided and merged and even fused for a while.

Fucking surreal.

I wonder, was that the night I got my life back, or it merely the beginning of a new end?

I wonder, if this is merely a sequel, will it be as good as the first one?

Sequels are almost never as good.

menu, messages, text messages, inbox, down, down, down, menu, erase, yes, end

menu, messages, text messages, outbox, down, down, menu, erase, yes, end

If I hadn't done those things, then by now I'd probably wish that I had. If I hadn't done these things, then by now you'd probably wish that I had.

But I did do those things, so it's win-win, right?

Right?

I hope you understand, I had to do those things. I fucking had to, for both of our sakes.

It was nice though, hearing from you.

It pretty much made my year. Maybe even my life.

But I still had to do those things.

Maybe one day, I won't have to do them anymore.

Maybe one day, I'll trust myself again.

Maybe.

Sorry, ladies, but your dreams have not come true.

There are not three of me.

I got this idea from netmale a long time ago and completely forgot about it until MixedSignalGirl "found" some scrubs for me at work today.

I don't know if I can remember enough of this to make the posting worthwhile or not. Oh well. I suppose that worthwhile isn't something that's expected to go with this type of post anyway.

I was in Louisville, getting ready to check out the new building that I'm moving into for work.

While I was walking up the sidewalk I ran into my cousin, and I invited him to come along.

So we went into the building and took a little self-guided tour. When I was ready to leave my cousin went and opened this one door. I knew that it was a door that I wasn't allowed to use because, even though my company owns the building, there were still some parts that were off-limits to peons like me.

Beyond the forbidden door there was a big fancy room, like a hotel lobby or something. And beyond that there was a fancy restaurant. I kept trying to get my cousin to leave before I got into trouble, but he walked purposefully to a table and sat.

He kept thanking me for bringing him to that place, telling me how much it meant to him and how long he'd dreamed of being there.

It was about then that I remembered two things:

1. It was New Years Eve.
2. My cousin was a lunatic.

I decided to ditch the psycho and I started looking for an exit. At one point I found myself in a glass elevator with a few other people. All of a sudden my cousin was in the elevator too. He was wearing a bathrobe and doing a really bad Elvis impersonation.

The other people in the elevator were groaning and telling him to shut up, and he starting waxing philosophically about some bullshit or other and he whipped open his bathrobe.

The crowd gasped.

My cousin had mutilated his genitals. His penis was just a bloody stub, and his testicles were just hanging there with nothing around them. Just blood and gore.

Yes, it was gross.

Yes, I got the fuck out of that elevator.

I went running out into the street. I was going to flag down a cop, but then I remembered that it was New Years Eve and they probably had better things to do.

The other day after work I had a beer that was new to me:

Rogue Imperial Porter

(draft) Pretty good. This reminded me of Bell's Kalamazoo Stout more than anything else. A slight slant toward the coffee side of the flavor spectrum as opposed to the chocolate side. The fairly high ABV is very well hidden.

Friday night was SassyGirl's going-away party. After an after-work nap that lasted about an hour longer than I'd wanted it to, I packed up some beer and headed to the boonies.

Parties at SassyGirl's have always consisted of two or three people that I know and a bunch of strangers. It's a lot like Rich O's I suppose, except that at these parties the strangers have been screened a little better.

To drink, I had two bottles of yummy Rogue Chocolate Stout (1050) and two yummy bottles of Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier (1497). Not all at the same time though. I stretched them out for several hours.

It was a very subdued affair as parties go. There was some drama fairly late that made everyone feel uncomfortable, and so I came home a little after 2:00.

Saturday night, because my sister's party was cancelled, I went to Rich O's. SassyGirl and JauntyGirl were there with some of their friends, most notably TrainGirl who I hadn't seen in a long time. So that was cool.

I sat in the throne and had a pint of the aforementioned Rogue Imperial Porter (40).

Then there was more drama. SassyGirl almost got herself 86ed from the place, on her last night, by carrying a lit cigarette through the nonsmoking section. It's a good thing nobody died.

At some point I had another Rogue (60).

Once the girls had left some PBDs came over and sat with me in the living room area. One of them told me that I'm in trouble for offending someone with one of my comics. My response is basically don't look if you don't like it.

I was going to have another Rogue, but it's pretty strong (7.77%) so I only drank half (70) and I gave the rest to CoffeeDude.

I stopped on the way home at this little bar to see if VigilanteGirl was there, but she wasn't. I ended up staying and having a bottle of slightly skunked Newcastle.

This morning I'm just incredibly hung-over.

So tonight I said goodbye to SassyGirl. She's fleeing the country and I probably won't ever see her again - despite promises to the contrary.

I feel like such a shithead.

I will miss SassyGirl very much. I will miss her more than I could describe here, in this journal.

But, and this bothers me to feel this way just as it bothers me to write this, but in the grand scheme of things this is nothing.

Nothing at all.

SassyGirl leaving, my best friend leaving, this is just another straw dropped onto this poor camel's back. But this camel's back has been broken for a very long time. One more straw means nothing in the grand scheme of things.

You know what her leaving does to me?

Go ahead, guess.

What it does to me is this - it reminds me of another time, almost two years ago, when another girl left. When another girl left and I died inside.

Tonight, I hugged SassyGirl goodbye. I told her to take care of herself. I kissed her cheek. I told her to keep in touch. I told her I loved her.

Two years ago, someone else left my life. I didn't get to say goodbye. I didn't get to hug her. I didn't get to kiss her cheek. I didn't get to tell her I loved her.

I didn't get to do shit.

Except die inside. I fucking nailed that.

Tonight, I said goodbye to SassyGirl. Tonight this should have been important. This should have been memorable.

But it wasn't.

Instead, it was a reminder. A reminder of someone else.

I'm such a shithead.

I will miss SassyGirl very much.

But I miss, I will continue to miss another the way a flower misses the Sun and the rain.

This is who I am. This is what I do.

I don't have to like it very much, but I do have to accept it.

Eventually, maybe I'll manage that feat.

Today after finishing up some work crap, I slept all damn day.

I hate it when I do this. Especially on a day that, on the outside at least, is as beautiful as this one is.

To be fair, I didn't get nearly enough sleep last night. I didn't get home from SassyGirl's party until after 3:00, then I had to work at 8:00. So I was tired.

But, problem is, being tired is only half the reason I slept the day away. Maybe not even half. Maybe it's no reason at all.

Maybe it's just an excuse.

An excuse for what?

Even if I knew, I don't think I'd allow myself to say. Not to myself, and not to this journal.