Sticks and Bones

The first part of a chronicle of a crush-turned-obsession. I'm sorry, Julie.


To experience this in natural reading order go to A Bright, Ironic Hell: The Straight Read .


Also, try Satellite Dance and Crystal Delusions--Parts 2 and 3, respectively--complete.

Monday, July 21, 2008

Just Go South About Halfway Through the Earth (6/23/08 Monday)

I really can't take much more of this. Somehow, I've come to feel I'm hurting Julie. I'm bound to be sending mixed signals. I think more and more, "How could she want a guy like me? How could she respect me?" For a moment today I was amused with myself as if I were watching a sophisticated comedy-romance. The feeling quickly passed. I didn't say a word to Julie today. What am I doing? Not doing? How do I get out of this? I still can't get any relief. Stacey's still the only person I can talk to about it, and I just don't feel she's got that much to offer in the way of empathy--practical empathy, anyway. And who else can do that for me? I just can't carry this burden. Even if I could just find out if she felt anything for me, I'd have a sense of direction; I could move, instead of vibrating between extremes, powerless to move a step one way or the other. If I found out she hadn't feelings for me without her ever knowing how I felt about her, I could turn away my attention, as I'm not interested in humiliation, which I've outgrown. And, too, I don't want to get anywhere through flattery, or be pitied, so she can't know how I feel about her until I know she feels the same. I couldn't otherwise work with her any longer. But who will pass my anonymous notes? It's Hell I'm in, a bright, ironic Hell.

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