Catch-22

She crouched on the floor like a wounded thing, and Dorian Gray, with his beautiful eyes, looked down at her, and his chiseled lips curled in exquisite disdain. There is always something ridiculous about the emotions of people whom one has ceased to love. Sibyl Vane seemed to him to be absurdly melodramatic. Her tears and sobs annoyed him.

Don’t you see, infatuation is a trap if it’s not returned.

I am too angry at myself. Oh you knew it, I shouldn’t have slept with Martine, of course I shouldn’t have. But people are really fucked up creatures; the both of us were anyway. Him, with his stupid (but uncannily rational) fears and me with my childish insouciance. It was a really bad idea. But oh, we still had to do it.

You know how sometimes, after sleeping with someone, you don’t feel as deprived of the person as you were before? I shall make no assumptions for him, but that is certainly how I feel more times then I would care to remember, and yes, it is horribly selfish.

I don’t know what to think anymore. I am extremely upset at my behaviour, and I hate him for responding to it, and then behaving like I’m the one with no self-control what so ever. Of course he didn’t fuck me out of pity, what sort of retarded-ness is that? No one sleeps with me purely out of pity, that’s bullshit. And anyway, he wanted it.

Perhaps I needed it. Whack me so hard and spit it to my face that your resolve can absolutely not be comprimized any longer. That you know you absolutely cannot see me anymore because it’s just way to fucking risky. And I actually understand where he’s coming from, but it doesn’t make me feel vaguely better. You’re making me feel like I’m a completely self-centered, tantrum throwing 10 year old.

The problem with the whole relationship from the start, the way I see it, was the fact that he liked me, but tried not to because he shouldn’t be liking me, but that I knew it, and I had to push the limit. It’s in my nature to do so, and he damn well knew it. Sure as hell he knows it better now. *laugh*

I told him I won’t ever call him again. If he wanted to, he could call me, but I doubt it.

I spent sometime thinking about things to do to ease the situation, and I finally came to the conclusion that I just didn’t give a shit. In a few weeks, it’ll just die down, and by then, whatever problems external to our relationship would have cleared up, and if something should happen, then so it shall.

He can’t see me, at all, for the simple reason that I’ll keep pushing the limit and risking him (so he thinks). And I will. So he’s right and so be it.

Fuck it. I have better things to do in my life then try and attain the desire of people who think they really shouldn’t be interested. At least he’s not half-assed about me anymore, he just knows he shouldn’t be assed about me at all. Good, I hate hanging on a tangent anyway.

xoxox