I used to read romance novels for a cheap thrill. And then later on I'd lie in bed depressed over how little I'm loved. I remember those times clearly - me, hugging a pillow, creating imaginary situations whereby I'm rejected again and again, in love. And then sometimes I'd cry it out, releasing all my other stress along with it with every tear.

Now that I can hardly claim to be lonely and unloved, I sometimes feel helpless at the fact that I cannot make up those imaginary situations again. It's as though I've come up against an emotional brick wall - no more feeling any self-pity and raging at the cruelty of the world. And when times get hard and I just want to curl up and piteously cry, I can't. Because I know that there's someone nearby who likes me, and to wallow in self-pity would mean that I'm not taking into consideration his feelings. And yet, I can't go to him and cry. He's such an emphatic guy, more observant than I am. And he shares the feelings of people close to him. But he's also rather pragmatic. For me to go up to him and cry, he'd either get hurt, or just tell me 'everything is hard.'

Just today I was somewhat emo-ing again, over my relationship - again *roll eyes*. My first relationship scared me out. While my ex was dreaming of a long, long relationship, I'd shudder when I imagined it stretched out for years and years. When we broke up I felt so happy, so free. In my current one, I know that ours would end when we graduate - the possibility of it lasting longer than that was slim, and we both knew it. Because of that I told myself that there was no point trying to take up too much of his time, or to do anything too serious. Sometimes, when I think of the end I get a little emotional, and start considering breaking up with him right here, right now. Better to hurt now than later. Then I'd think of how we managed to get together, and I knew I couldn't do it.

Yes, I know that I'm a fickle-minded, weak and stupid girl.