But mostly I thought about Jenny

I haven’t written in a long time, and I really need to. Or do a good Forrest-style run, perhaps.

Laura Laura Laura. I miss her so much, yet hate the thought of her. I want to call her up and… scream at her, ask for her back, and tell her she’s a slutbag all at once. I want to hate hate hate, yet then I think less of myself for hating.

A little part of me hates all women now, classifying them as either slutty bitches with education or dumb sweethearts without it. Or slutty dummies, I guess. They exist too.

There’s so little forgiveness left in my heart, and so little love in my soul.

I sought out Lauren R this past weekend, because she’s raw and her rough edges, while perhaps more exaggerated, aren’t really all that different from my own. And I like that rawness, that bluntness, the acknowledgement of anger, the free expression of distrust, the acceptance of the evil in the world and the sometime-daily struggle that is getting up in the morning and simply making good decisions.

We talked about Laura cheating on me, and Lauren’s CEO dad calling me, and both wondered aloud how our two weeks of bliss two years ago went to so much shit so fast.

I miss her — Laura. And I think less of myself for that very emotion. How dare such a vile form of life be given so much of my energy, how foolish am I to have squandered my now-scarce affections so freely.

I wish I were a better person. I wish I could constantly be beat up by love and somehow still not be bitter.