Gosh, I miss you. Christmas is what, a mere six days away, and sadly, I really can't get into the spirit of things, no matter what I try. I'm going through the motions, and occasionally, I fool myself into thinking that I've forgotten. But not so deep down, I haven't. Who knew that two months and twelve days later, I'd still hurt. Sure, I don't cry all the time, or spend all day in bed just wanting to sleep forever. I haven't forgotten; it just means I've gotten used to things, gotten better at hiding and managing my feelings. I want so much for things to work out, for us to be friends, if that's really all we will ever be. I throw myself into helping out, into getting busy with stuff, events, parties, and it helps, but only for the time that I'm being busy. Once people leave, things finish, and you head on home, the quiet, everything comes flowing back at you. I hate that feeling. I hate being so helpless, being an ocean away from you, not being able to fix things, not being able to tell you the whole truth of everything. I miss having you to talk to whenever and no matter how long, to tell about my day, or to gripe about haters. We're friends, quite close to being the best friends that we are, but there's still a line that should be drawn, a line I'm afraid to cross, but also a line that I really can't see. I don't know what is enough, what is more than enough, what is considered as crossing the line. Sigh. In spite of everything, I'm determined to not be like the Grinch who stole Christmas. I'll go out, smile, have fun, party, and genuinely TRY to enjoy myself. But I know that at the end of the day, it's really just me, and ONLY me, now.
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