Okay so we all know this guy was amazing. And if I don’t ever get to see him again I will just die. I will just collapse. Actually I will never know if I get to see him or not (or if I did, I guess) until I’m in my death bed. DAMN IT! I WANT TO KNOW NOW! Oh if I only knew what he’s thinking right now. Whether he’s thought of me at all. And if so, was it regret? And what would that regret be?? Everything was perfect, what would be wrong? Why would there be no further communication? Damn it he doesn’t want me. He hardly knows me, why am I obsessing??? No one else knew me either, if he doesn’t like me it’s totally of his own accord. Maybe I’m too young. Maybe… Maybe it was a dream, or it wasn’t real. That he didn’t mean anything he said or made me think he felt. Maybe I’m too young. That’s the only acceptable excuse. I would look around it, but who knows if he would? Or the distance… Damn it I would go any distance for IT- the feeling I had from him. Nothing after that has been or will be the same. I’ll never watch Jeopardy without thinking of him. Or Family Guy. Jesus I want to belong to every part of him. This is sick obsessive fucked up I can’t feel this way about a stranger. I can’t feel this way about ANYONE! I never have. It’s too much dear me it’s too much to handle. It’s fucking BEAUTIFUL. I’M fucking beautiful. HE’S THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING EVER. Damn it if I find out it was nothing, I will fall apart. It will mean that the perfect man does not exist. It will mean that true love is not possible. It will mean that these feelings I have are impossible, completely unreal. They will be ugly, and so will I. If this is not real, then I too will no longer be real. I will collapse under the false feelings I have. If this is not real I will cease to be. What will be left is a shell, who won’t even disbelieve because I will know that there is nothing TO believe or not believe in. I don’t even know if I would breathe. It, I mean. I don’t even know if it would breathe. Music would mean nothing. Words would mean nothing. I would have nothing to write, because everything would be a lie. Without music and words, I would be so hollow that I could not cry, nor laugh, nor hurt because he’s the being of all feelings. He is the center of passion. He is the pulse, and if he is NOT, then I will cease to be. Shall I kiss myself goodbye and write as much as I can in the short future, since my doom is impending? I almost don’t want to sleep, I want to cherish the beauty of the memory as it seemed, before it’s taken away and exposed as ugly. If this memory is a lie, oh God it makes me ill. Please don’t let it be a lie.

PS. It's not a lie... Rae's roomie asked him how his weekend went, and according to them he said "Friday was GREAT." Friday was my nite. That can't be bad