My good god. Do you have any idea how much baggage I have been carrying around for the past 20 years? It just hit me. I mean, I never forgot but it just hit me how much it's stayed with me and how much it influences me. That one little moment changed everything. That sentence. That "I don't want to go out with you anymore". When I was... what? 16? Jesus.

That's why I always hold back for a bit when Fabian comes over. That's why, when he's not with me I think he's with someone else. Because Dave was. And I have never been so humiliated. I never felt so stupid and duped and hurt. And everyone knew. My mother knew. The whole Teen Centre knew. And I was all la-de-da, kiss kiss, tee hee. The one time that I didn't go to the dance.

And I have been trying to avoid feeling like that ever since. And I always thought that it was because she was pretty and she was thin and she was younger. But maybe it was because of how she made him feel. Maybe it was because she made him feel strong and wanted and I was home and didn't show up without even bothering to call.

I still wait that first few minutes to judge his demeaner before I react to him. I've never been able to kiss and love him without some sign that it was okay. It never really occurred to me that he probably wondered why I was always cold at first. It isn't his fault that when I was 16 David Parmiter screwed around on me at a dance with Angela Hardy in front of all of my friends and no one told me and the next day he broke up with me at the Teen Centre in front of all of my friends and I laughed when he said I don't want to go out with you anymore, I laughed and I said yeah, me too. It isn't his fault that somehow in that one moment my heart was broken and while it has been bandaged and healed there is still this little scar that is barely visible. But behind that scar the scar tissue has been building and pushing out the caring feelings that could be there. In that one moment I stopped believing, I stopped trusting. My deepest fears were confirmed - I wasn't good enough. Self-fulfilling prophecy? Maybe. But the fact remains that I never let anyone put me in that position again. And I really don't know if I can start now.

I hate these days. Something just ruptured in my brain this afternoon and made me feel like this murderous rage. Not really. I don't exactly rage. Sometimes I wish I did. Maybe it would be better than sitting alone, crying. Ah, maybe it would be worse. I need something more than work and tv, I know that. Exercise. I'm waiting again. For what? I don't now. Waiting for everything to be perfect so that everything will be perfect. Waiting to not have these days anymore. Stay off the ganga and booze might be a good start. Get some exercise, get off the couch, start some renos or some cleaning or some studying. Something. Something. The problem is, when I feel like this, I don't want to do anything. I can't concentrate on work, I don't feel like reading, tv is boring, exercise is a joke. God. Forever the see-saw. Should I just learn to accept it?