C'est minuit, et je trouve pour la classe francais. J'adore la France, et la langue...et je deteste l'heures et l'heures de les devoirs!

C'est fou, je dit, c'est fou!

Today during break, we bumped into each other in the hall.
"I'm sorry, but you're not sixteen..." and I don't know if I imagined it, but maybe he looked a little sad.
"It's okay."
"It's good to know, though!"
"Yeah."
And then he moved towards me and I thought he was going to hug me (he didn't). I looked up into his face, and he smiled and said
"What?"

And we talked like that for awhile, but then the bell rang and he was gone. And now I feel so much better. It's absolutely incredible the things that closure can do for you. I am sure now that I can move on completely, we can become normal friends/bandmates, and thing will be, in general, better. Now I won't have to feel shitty when we don't talk in the hall, and I just have this feeling it's going to be much more okay now.

But I still don't want to live here.

"Past, Present, and Future"
by the Shangri-La's

(The Past)
The past, well now, let me tell you about the past.
The past is filled with silent joys and broken toys, laughing girls and teasing boys.
Was I ever in love? I called it love- I mean, it felt like love,There were moments when...
Well, there were moments...

(The Present)
Go out with you? Why not.
Do I like to dance? Of Course.
Take a walk along the beach tonight? I'd love to,
But don't try to touch me, don't try to touch me
Cause that will never happen again.
Shall we dance?

(The Future)
Tommorow? Well, tommorow's a long way off.
Maybe someday I'll have somebody's hand.
Maybe somewhere, someone will understand.
You know I used to sing- a tisket a tasket a green and yellow basket.
I'm all packed up and I'm ready fall in love,
But at the moment it doesn't look good.
At the moment it will never happen again
I don't think I will ever fall in love again.


I know this isn't true, but it's how I feel. Dead. Depressed. Each passing day reminds me that I don't belong in this place. I want to move. Move far away. I don't want to be here. As much as I love this place, I can't be here. I want to be in Montreal or Lyon, France or Sweden. Somewhere cold and desolate and bursting with life. I don't want to be here...I just can't be here.

Oh, good lord, am I stupid.

Anyone who has read this blog knows aoubt my boy situation. Off on, off on, what ARE my feelings for this boy? I've had the tape made for him for over a month...the day before we got off of break I wrapped it in a picture from National Geographic. It was a closeup of many fish fins. On the back side of the picture that I wrapped it in, there was a small picture of 3 turtles mating. It had some text. I didn't read it. In the available spaces I wrote about how our friendship had seemingly faded. How I've been in, at least, "like" with him for months. How I knew we wouldn't happen. How I was sorry for putting on that one song, it was too serious for starters. The next day I passed it into his hands. Then, after telling him not to rip the paper at all, I walked away.

I hope that the magic 8-ball was right when it said that I should give him the tape, that he'd be happy to hear the news. He hasn't opened it yet. He said he was waiting until christmas. I told him to open it today. I know that when he gets home, he will open it, he will look at it, he will read it, and maybe he will put the tape in. Maybe tommorow he will come up to me and tell me that he's sorry for waiting so long. If only he'd known! If only he'd known...

There are so many things I should put on my list of all that I've done wrong.