Bashing

Hmm, don't really know what is going on with the save to draft thing. I had only typed a few sentences, but they disappeared. (found them!) At any rate, I'm hung-over, bashed, from a night out with my roommate and old ST friends SB and JT, where I got drunk and bashed E in a fabulous comic routine that lasted too long. I feel bad about it. I always feel badly when I call him an idiot and relate all the absolutely true yet unbelievably idiotic things he did while we were together. AND, he just called me. I never pick up while I'm at my weekend job because the reception is crap. So now I get to decide if he thought of that ahead of time in hopes to leave a message (likelihood: low) and what the message says (seemed not to take long). Based on my knowledge of him, I'm going to say he called without any amount of anxiety to leave one of his fucking 'hey, this is E (I know it's you E, right before you begin speaking the lovely Sprint lady says 'message received from' your annoying voice 'E') call me.' Imaging this fucking VM pisses me off!!! And yet it was like a hand closed around my heart when I saw it was him calling. Yet, since our break-up I realize how much, in spite of all the things that made me crazy, I love him. I love him in a friend way, in a I could never be with you way, in a I wish you were better way, and probably in one of the most unconditional ways ever. I'm a softy. I am so loyal it's ridiculous, once you're in my heart, you are in. I may not always be the most fun person in the world, or the nicest, or the easiest to get to know, but I can say that I have a huge heart. With that, armed with that thing I like about myself, I'm listening to the voice mail... Behind door number 1: Hello, it's ME (great work) give me a call back whenever you have a second, I know you're at work. I hope you're doing well and I can't wait to hear from you. Bye. sigh, I have to call him.