It’s been five days since I called her back. I don’t want to try again. I’m not a stalker, not anymore. I don’t want to be one of those guys that chase after a woman, and get with them because she finally said yes, after months of “bumping into each other”. If anything, the internet taught me that I can talk to other people, and they’re willing to reply sooner than Miss 626. It’s not that I’m scared of rejection, or anything. I just don’t like the idea that I’ve been obsessed over a girl that I met only once, and scoured my list of potential links to her name…which I have in my possession now! It’s creepy, and I don’t like it.
I guess this is where the man is suppose to meditate on this lovely coincidence and romantically sing praise to the best day of his life, meeting her, right? I could say she was the girl that got away, but we only met once. I could say that I didn’t even try, but look what happened when I did? I could say that I did try, but to what effect? I’ve lost sleep, I’ve lost time, and even if I had my health, I must have lost it somewhere along the way too! There’s no point in chasing a girl, if I’m just going to lose myself in a tunnel of pity. What am I suppose to say? “Hi, I have no life, no money, and wasted my minutes on you, after losing my dignity calling the Huntington for your name?”
Forget that we clicked that day, forget that I became someone else when I sat next to her, forget what happened! Who was that anyway, chatting it up, getting into her personal space like that? I want to be me, myself, no one else. Leave me to my inspiration, and let my muse be my lover. She at least puts my heart at ease. I can roam where I want, do what I want, whenever I want, and SLEEP! …alone…in my studio apartment…like I’ve been for the past year…watching people from a distance, filming scenery, and talking to the only Bartender that won’t give me a decent conversation unless I get drunk with him.
Dear God…what’s wrong with me?