Love.

January 12, 2008

She’s not interested. Graciously accepting my intense interest in her as compliment, which it should always be, I mask just how much the rejection grips me.

So there I was sitting on the train home, lump in throat. Involuntary quivering lip, I shed a few tears. I’m conscious of at least one girl on the same train watching me, clearly itching to know what was wrong.

How can the maintenance of the status quo — i.e., “just friends” — initiate a reaction so similar to that of the breakup of a long relationship?

I have always said that it’s important to tell people if you’re interested in them. Keeps everything above board. I just wish that in this case the feeling had been mutual.

Off to cry.

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