I think I need to realize not to expect things. I keep telling myself that expecting things only breeds discontent, yet I continue.

Expected much of the Bashganza, it was moreorless a flop.

Wasn’t expecting much of New Years, it rocked.

And so on. One hour and 40 minutes. Six years, however many months and days yields one hour and 40 minutes. Not even. He was late.

Jon, who I’ve obsessed over, hated, loved, and so much more gave me one hour and forty minutes. And it was awkward. I guess we really aren’t that great of friends anymore. We haven’t hung out regularly since sophomore year when we went flying off in opposite directions. I gave up, he moved on. I guess it’s not like I’ll never see/speak to him again, but still–one hour and forty minutes?

That’s just weak.

Well, he did buy me dinner first, and you know what that means.

Well, you’re wrong. Ha. I guess this is good. It’s kinda like catharsis… but not really. I can move on now. I can be free!

Free at last… free at–no. Nope. Not gonna do that.

Has Alex W. left the building? Haven’t heard from him for awhile. I need to hang out with Alex J. before he hates me… well, that won’t happen, but the point still stands.

Let’s roll! (I kid, I kid! Put down the gun Maren, I mean I li– wait. Ha. Bye)

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