it is 8:22 pm and i am struggling with the idea that i might really stay at home all by myself tonight. it's strange, but i don't remember the last time that i've done so. i feel like someone trying to quit smoking, with a pack in one hand, itching to peel off the plastic, pull out the shiny paper, flip over my wish cigarette, and light the first crisp smoke.

why is this a fight? why can't i just stay home and enjoy it, or why don't i just go out if i feel the need? something about discipline and responsibilities, something about pride and self-respect.

i tried to end things with e. on saturday. not for more drama (really this time), but rather to avoid it. he's been kissing his ex-girlfriend and she's been letting me find out about it through mutual friends. it's all a bit highschool. anyway, i tried to end things with e. on saturday, though halfheartedly, i'll admit, because i don't really want it to end. i know i deserve to be treated better than this, and i don't want to lower my standards for him. i feel ready to be in love again, or at least a less fucked up version of like than this.

the thing is, for now, being or not being with emlyn is like being or not being alone in this apartment tonight. it's a choice against loneliness, someone to smoke with, to lean against, to hear beside me in the dark. which may be why it's so hard to sit here by myself, with the unopened pack in my hand.