Damn, I go into all of this as if I actually know what I'm doing - as if I can handle it. No problem. Well, he's been pretty much non-existent since the night I let out the L word. We've spoken pretty much every day but he only stayed over one night. And on that night lovesick Beverly gave the Fabe a key. And I haven't seen him since. That was Friday night. Saturday night he was supposed to come over and he totally stood me up. Pretty shitty. He said that he fell asleep but his phone was on when I called at 9:30 and off 20 minutes later. The next day, yesterday, he thought I was being foolish to even be bothered by it. So, he said he'd come over after work. Got off at 6:30pm. Didn't call. Okay, no problem. Didn't call. Hmmm. Didn't call. That son of a bitch. Didn't call. Fuck him, I don't need this. At 9:40pm he called and I was ready. Blah, blah, blah, had enough, blah.

And that was the moment that Fabe walked in. I was about to say that I'm trying to give myself permission to love him again. And we had a good evening. We hadn't spoken since Saturday morning. Another of those CAVE ventures, I guess. I'm expecting another REAL SOON! Because last night I told him that I love him. Haven't said that since we broke up in June. I've been doing this 'casual' thing but it was becoming more confusing and frustrating than helpful. And so I have given myself permission to give everything, go in without thought of the end and see what happens. Because, if it ends, I'll know that I did what I could and that's all I can do. And, if it doesn't end, well, all the better. But I'm expecting another silent spurt because when he left this morning he said "I'll see you later". And we all know that means don't sit by the phone. So we'll see, we'll see.

Oops new ink color! New phase. Start again, start again. Well, as long as I don't stop trying, right? I must be getting somewhere in all of this. It's been a long time since November when I last wrote. Almost my life. Hmmmm.

Well, I got low. Down. Blue. BAD. The worst one yet. Dr. Gray finally decided that it was time for meds. Definitely chemical, he said - because I followed his advice, I was true to my therapy and was getting steadily worse. After a lot of fear and research I started taking Wellbutrin SR on January 5th. For the first two weeks I was raving 'miracle pill' but I realized that there is no such thing. I do feel that it has been helping me cope though and that's been the most difficult part of all of this. But I have a lot of bad habits that I need to work to overcome. I should go back to therapy, too, I guess. But I really feel that I have no issues. But I do. I do. I do. Nothing that big of a deal, though. Surely my difficulty with relationships is not that much anymore. Enough to warrant $120 per hour? It's early days yet. I have lots of time to decide.

Okay, here's today's issue. Am I going to give myself permission... I guess I will have to get into this later.