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Things get better.

Or so they tell me.

As I've written twice already how rough April is/how deeply I loathe it. Among the several or so reasons, one certainly centers on loneliness and longing. Boys, and their (apparent) disinterest/indifference. I've harbored a long-standing bitterness about this, too; resenting couples and their happiness especially as they frolic in the re-awakened flowers and warmth and hormones of Spring.

It's been very frustrating.

I hate feeling lonely almost as much as I hate sounding pathetic. In April, though, the latter's all but entirely overwhelmed by the former, and longing feeds bitterness, and resentment breeds surliness.


Right now, I'm not particularly chasing anyone. Well, that's not entirely true. Among the guys I wish would notice me is one I've wanted ardently for a very long time.

At this point, it's not some desperate, crazed yearning, but a friendship I very much wish were "more". It's turned figurative--how it represents my hesitance and bad luck with guys hurts more, probably, than his lack of reciprocating gesture.

Don't get me wrong. I want him, bad. It's also a bit more complicated than "just some hot guy who's nice to me". See, besides wanting to tackle him with bestial fury and ravage every adorably stimulating & fuckable inch of him with hard hot passion, I also respect him as a person and peer. I think he's brilliant, funny, delightful, gifted, and as crazy, it seems, about music and movies and literature and writing as I am, perhaps more in some areas.

So the fantasy is complicated by presumed compatibility; I assume we could offer eachother so much more than how, wild sex. I imagine such wonderful things, if only things went how I wanted them to. Don't get me wrong; I imagine wonderful things could happen any way things went. I just really really like the things I imagine we (I) could have if things were different.

It's gonna sound so emo--so it must still be April!--but I haven't felt this way about a guy in...I don't how long, if ever. Part of what frustrates me, then, is realization that apparently Romanticism is dead. (Or I'm just not ballsy enough to "follow my heart".) That just because it feels so perfect, and you want it so badly, and you'd do most anything for it just to happen, doesn't mean he's going to notice you or return those feelings.

It also sucks because, for reasons variously foolhardily spurious or actually compelling, I'm not convinced he isn't entirely indifferent or, at the least, unaware. Maybe that's why still haven't gotten coffee despite various enthusiastic agreements to--that he is aware and doesn't want to encourage it. Or maybe I'm just going cynical. Sigh.

The good news is I'm feeling better than I was before; I was feeling hopeless and frustrated, but now it's lessened. Thankfully.

So with that, I'll stop stewing on it for today. It's not worth worrying. It's not like it'd accomplish anything anyway to worry. It's time I start turning things like this over; they very much fall under "...the serenity to accept the things I cannot change...". So it's about time I turn to "...the courage to change the things I can..." and spare myself some grief.

For all I know thing's might actually work out if I stop trying to cling to & control them. Stranger things have been known to happen.
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Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
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