The Return of June.

This semester has been a blur of projects, papers, long nights working at the bar, and a few trysts with new playmates. Crappy dates, better dates, very good dates are all the same though at this point in time.
I sit now in my corner studio on the fourth floor of the College of Fine Arts building with all of my work surrounding me and yet I can't concentrate. Why, dear America do you ask? Well, for the exact reason that I have dreaded to be plagued with for almost a year now.

I am waiting for a phone call, (from a guy of course.)

Could someone bring me some kind of insight about why the fuck I am such a pathetic romantic? Could any therapist get rid of my ridiculous daydreaming and lonely wishing for male company?!

Wait dear reader! Here comes the irony... The second I have managed to get this company I don't want it anymore. I've kicked people out immediately after, or lain there pretending to be asleep hoping for him to sneak out quietly and never call me.

This guy though - I think I might actually like him. Now for those of you who have followed my tale this far, you are aware this hasn't been the case since the Killer. I can't have that again. No more complicated feelings while standing next to someone. Please no more crying at night knowing he will never return this feeling of want and respect. And most certainly please oh please no more scheduling my life into someone else's!! I can't have this my last year in school. I can't look to the future with someone over occupying my present.


In other news, there is nothing noteworthy to report. Just as was stated before - paintings, papers, and the bar.