Well. That was an anti-climatic ending to a friendship: unpack my books and leave. I don't even really want to talk about it, so if you have any questions, ask him.
Also, 6 months exactly? What the fuck?
I also have a Philosophy paper I need to be writing. There's nothing really concrete to distract me, I just can't write it. Nothing is working, my head keeps going in circles on should'vewould'vecould've and I'm trying to figure out how he went from inlovewithme to notinlovewithme in a span of about twomaybethree weeks--with no outside force, it just sort of happened and I can't figure that out.
I hate this. I am complaining, yes, but I fucking hate this. This would be so much easier if I just hated you.
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