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Feb. 15th, 2013 01:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
toldbyafool[Filter: Private]
When did Ema even get someone to cook for?
Have I missed this? Is that where she's been going all those days that I couldn't find her? Dragons, here I thought she'd be my little sister with scraped knees and pigtails forever, but there she goes with her basket full of goodies ...
She certainly doesn't need a fistful of dahlias! I wonder how many roses she'll come back with. It can't be that serious if she hasn't said anything about him, can it ...
I miss giving flowers to people that weren't family. Dragons, that's stupid, but there's a reason I filtered this, isn't there? Time for my annual Rose Day sulk! Nobody gets to know how stupid I get about this holiday. Smile, Ben, and then go feel sorry for yourself where no one can see you.It's not like I didn't have people who would have It just never felt right, giving
Ugh.
This is a journal, I'll write what I mean.
It just never felt right to give any of them roses. How stupid is that? Even the ones I liked, even the ones I really liked, even the ones I spent the night with! But they never gave me anything more than friendly gifts, either! It was an understanding. A couple of people coming to a completely nonromantic agreement! I'd give them lilies or violets or hyacinths and they'd give me a bundle of candies from the street shop and we'd laugh and toast.
And then they'd leave the next day and I'd sit around and feel sorry for myself for ridiculous reasons.
These very same reasons!
Sometimes I wonder how much I've caged myself into this. I was just a Dragonsdamned teenager. I barely even knew what I was thinking! I'm practically twice the age I was back then, and yet here I sit, sulking about it and wondering, maybe if I'd said something different! Maybe if I'd written more letters.
It's not even love.
I don't think it's love.
How would I even know if it's love?
I just wish I knew if he was still even alive. I don't know why it's Rose Day that does it, but I just think about the stupid harebrained ideas I got in my head when I was a kid, when I was too little to know better, how I sat in the garden wondering ... wondering if he was getting any flowers, that first year after he left.
Dragons, this is ridiculous.
I'm taking my money and I'm going for a drink.
When did Ema even get someone to cook for?
Have I missed this? Is that where she's been going all those days that I couldn't find her? Dragons, here I thought she'd be my little sister with scraped knees and pigtails forever, but there she goes with her basket full of goodies ...
She certainly doesn't need a fistful of dahlias! I wonder how many roses she'll come back with. It can't be that serious if she hasn't said anything about him, can it ...
I miss giving flowers to people that weren't family. Dragons, that's stupid, but there's a reason I filtered this, isn't there? Time for my annual Rose Day sulk! Nobody gets to know how stupid I get about this holiday. Smile, Ben, and then go feel sorry for yourself where no one can see you.
Ugh.
This is a journal, I'll write what I mean.
It just never felt right to give any of them roses. How stupid is that? Even the ones I liked, even the ones I really liked, even the ones I spent the night with! But they never gave me anything more than friendly gifts, either! It was an understanding. A couple of people coming to a completely nonromantic agreement! I'd give them lilies or violets or hyacinths and they'd give me a bundle of candies from the street shop and we'd laugh and toast.
And then they'd leave the next day and I'd sit around and feel sorry for myself for ridiculous reasons.
These very same reasons!
Sometimes I wonder how much I've caged myself into this. I was just a Dragonsdamned teenager. I barely even knew what I was thinking! I'm practically twice the age I was back then, and yet here I sit, sulking about it and wondering, maybe if I'd said something different! Maybe if I'd written more letters.
It's not even love.
I don't think it's love.
How would I even know if it's love?
I just wish I knew if he was still even alive. I don't know why it's Rose Day that does it, but I just think about the stupid harebrained ideas I got in my head when I was a kid, when I was too little to know better, how I sat in the garden wondering ... wondering if he was getting any flowers, that first year after he left.
Dragons, this is ridiculous.
I'm taking my money and I'm going for a drink.
