Did I Just Let the Joker Out of Arkham? (5/08/09 Friday)

What happened between the lie of the last Friday-the-thirteenth--that I would best get over Julie by not writing about her--and the last day of April, when I finally had to admit otherwise? I thought I had reverted, that things had gotten worse that ever, but found, instead, that I had grown. I no longer feel the plaything of a bitter, spiteful god named Irony. I am no longer in Hell. But where am I? I declared myself in love on the penultimate Friday-the-thirteenth and thought it the cruelest jest yet pulled by Irony. But here I am, still in love, and grateful to be. It is not returned by Julie, but perhaps not entirely unappreciated. I'm not sure how much I appreciate it myself. Yesterday, I was only cruelly appreciative, glad simply to have gotten the upper hand on it so that I might extact revenge. Today I woke up appalled at such dictatorial arrogance, realizing I had caged an ally for lack of recognition.

What can this ally do for me? Today at work was difficult. I wanted Julie's attention, I wanted her to talk to me, I wanted to talk to her--I wanted all of the old things I always wanted from her--and where was my new friend with a soft, heavy hand on my shoulder to say, "She knows how you feel"? My only friend was Judy's fan, in front of which I had to stand for prolonged periods after even the briefest near-encounter with Julie, when my body temperature filled the thermometer and the heat issuing from the top of my head looked like the waves off a baking tarmac. Oh, what she does to me! Where was my cool-headed friend?

I'm sure we're just not on the same page, me and (love it may be, but such a word, so densely fraught, cannot possibly be simply a name)--my friend. After all, it can't know me any better than I know it, even after having had my reins for nearly a year. Hell, it overturned me in a ditch! Yet, though it cannot reign, it can be a valuable advisor. Talk to me!