Deletion Pen OR Patient Foothill

I am taking steps to rid myself of that idiot whom (as you can see) I can't stop thinking about.

Towards the beginning of this whole fiasco (back before he thought he knew what was going on), I wrote an amorous letter to him, explaining how awful I felt that I could potentially put him in such an awkward position, but how much I thought I cared about him...

I burned it today. Not all of it--I did say, in one portion, at the end, "I love you". I tried to burn it once, but the wind was blowing, so only the bottom portion burned... those words, somehow, were left intact. I tore them off, and then burned the rest of the letter on my porch. My eyes welled a little, but more because of the smoke getting in my eyes than because of grief. I vowed that I would keep them safe.

I freaked out while writing this because I thought I had lost them, but, just while writing that last paragraph, I noticed them beneath the pencil cup. Crisis averted.

Dear God, what have I become?

I have the strangest feeling that, somewhere, I have greater control of this situation than I think. In this pattern, I have the needle.



I guess that's the point of it all.