There is a boy.

I've never met him but I know him very well.

I think about him every day. I wonder how he is when he doesn't post for two or three days. I worry. I hope that he's alright.

He always is.

I still worry though.

If he sent me a message that said

come here. run away. come and be with me.

and really meant it, in earnest

I might actually do it.

I don't know if I could break a heart, though. I'm not sure if I could live with myself.

It's a surprisingly difficult hypothetical that I think about more than I should.

Because I could love him.

I mean, I do love him, in a sense. I care about him. I feel bad when bad things happen to him. I want to make it better but I don't know how.

It doesn't really matter, because who's to say he would even have me?

I still think about it, though.

Maybe I'm just a bad person.

I want very much for him to be loved, because he is a lovely person and deserves it, and because I want the burden of loving him taken from me. Loving the loveless and unlovable is my gift and my curse. I found one who was sad and unloved, so I loved him, but now there is another one sad and unloved and I am helpless. I could leave the first, and let the second be loved. But then the first would be unloved again, and even more wretched than before. There is no scenario here that does not end with someone being depressed and lonely. I want to fix it. I cannot. I want to love both. I cannot do that either.
Someone find him, and love him, and hold him and kiss him goodnight so that I no longer feel compelled to.

cyberstalking the evil one doesn't give me the satisfaction I thought it would. I mean yes, on the surface it is hilarious, but on a deeper lever it just makes me sad. Part of me still misses him, still believes he could have been so much more than he is, believes we could have been something really special, something rare. I'm probably wrong, but what ifs have haunted me since the eighth grade and I have no cause to believe they'll stop now.

I fell in love with a dream construct last night. He was a southern boy with reddish hair. His name was Hickory. I've been told you cannot dream about a face you have never seen, but I have never seen that face before. Not initially attractive but handsome in a wise-beyond-his-years way. I hated to part from him and I was fairly upset when I woke up. I wonder what my brain is trying to tell me with that one.

Something is pulling me towards Indianapolis and I don't know what it is, or why. A little voice in my head is saying 'I wonder what it's like there. It would be interesting.' I can't explain it. I wish I could afford to visit so I could see for myself whether there is any merit to this.

Am I lying to myself about why I'm really doing this? If he reappeared and said forgive me, I fucked up, come away with me-would I say no? Am I being betrayed by my own subconscious? It wouldn't be the first time

Something is wrong with me. There is no excuse for seeing beauty and depth where I imagined it to be. It was an ugly, shallow mirage and I got lost in it.

So if that's true, why did I believe I loved him? What made him act the way he did in those weeks prior, what made him say what he said? Why can't I stop thinking about him now?

These are the things that keep me up at night.