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Well, looks like the thing with Jayne’s over now. A done deal this time, at last, for real. Turns out she met someone else, at school, in the past, what? four or five weeks? Just like that. Huh. Pattern of planned obsolescence, I guess. Same as always with these types. 

What really gets me though is that she really had the audacity to tell me that she “would like to continue talking” to me, as if she ever had the capacity and/or patience and/or interest and/or whatever to attempt to maintain even the slightest fucking semblance of an actual conversation to begin with. That’s real fucking grand, Jayne. If she really wanted to talk to me, she could just… talk to me. And not once did she bother, in all those months. Not once did she reach out, ever. And of course, she didn’t – and won’t – respond this time, either. 

The only thing I regret is that I told her some shit that, in retrospect, she really did not deserve. The kinds of useless, pathetic feelings I should have kept to myself, to people more deserving. I wish I could be more cruel. It’s in these kinds of moments that I find myself hating myself, the person I’ve become: this sick, cloying sentimentality that’s seeped into my heart as of late and softened me to the casual indifference of the world. The worst part is that I was honest. I really did mean what I said. Whatever. It’s in the past now. She’s dust. Next time, I’ll look for someone more reliable who’s actually somewhat interested in me.

Otherwise, the weekend was very pleasant. I went south to see my friends, celebrate a birthday. I made some new friends too, I think. Drank a lot. (Kinda wish I’d found out that shit with Jayne before I started drinking, but, well, you know, nothing’s ever that convenient.) It was really nice seeing all of them. It’s moments like those that remind me that there’s much, much more to both life and philosophy than some dumb fucking teenage girl.