Like There's Anyone Else

Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get - only with what you are expecting to give - which is everything. – Katherine Hepburn

A proud sufferer of abulia sooner or later hems and haws her way into some semblance of (albeit usually impulsive) decisiveness.

But all the hem-hawing drove me absolutely NUTS.

Since I couldn’t decide whether to mail him the goddamn letter or just forget it and have the letter writing be some kind of warped self-therapy…I let fate choose for me. Sounds whimsical? Meh, the modern-day woman does what she wants!

…or does she?

I mean, he leaves me no choice but to see him one last time. And, I can’t even feel completely forced because behind all my objections, I want to see him, too! If I were to keep puting my foot down, it’d strain our tenuous friendship-with-quotations relationship. If I say yes, it’d screw my recovery time and make it everything more difficult than it already is.

Soooo, I said yes to him.

Because it’s only been two weeks since the semester ended, because obviously that’s not nearly enough time to overcome my weakness for his company, because I don’t want to end on a bad note…because I want us to stay friends. Because I can’t refuse myself the prospect of seeing him. Because I’m a masochist in matters of the heart, apparently. I’ll suffer the consequences one last time. *sigh* Damn him for making me feel so excited to see him (now that he’s made sure that we get to see each other one last time before he heads to Europe).

And, goodness! I think I’m nervous.

I’m also anxious b/c this means I have to give him the letter I wrote last week (I won’t go back on my word, even if I’m the only one who knows)—