Love Sucks, vol. 3

wearing: babysitting clothes. nothing special.
eating: pie.
listening to: 'Scar Tissue' by the chili peppers

I'm quitting my job. I can't stand Marty, he's a prick. As I told Megs:
Since I took a lot of time off with canoeing and rugby and my dads house, he's not put me on the schedule for 4 weeks, and neglected to give me any explanation, or fire me, or do anything professional about it, and I quite frankly do not desire to work for someone that treats me like that.

I would've let him have it tonight except I don't have his number.

Just incase anyone hasn't figured it out, The Maestro and I are now 'just friends'. I don't like to say 'broke up' because it sounds too messy... like something bad happened. And really, it hasn't. He was more comfortable as friends, and when it comes down to it, I would rather be friends and be close, than be involved with eachother and have him be melancholy. He's just... like that. I would like to blame him, to put all my frustration on his awkwardness, but that's just... the way he is. Granted, if my emotions were a person, they would be a person that has just been hit by a bus two consecutive times and then trampled on by about a dozen marching bands and scraped off the street by some drunk hired for five dollars an hour to pick up the horse poop after the parade. But I can't hate him. It isn't in me.
He finally e-mailed me last night seconds before I went to bed, with bad news, which lead to me keeping the whole house up with my crying until one o'clock in the morning... and today I came up to The Maestro before class, told him he's talking to me at lunch, and walked away. Mikey said I 'did a Marin', which made me giggle. Oh, it made me giggle. But back to the story... talking was good. Talking did so much good for me... that's the first time we've verbally communicated about something since he started getting distant. Unfortunately, I'm still a mess.

xoxo