Chris lashed out at me pretty hard. I cease to feel guilty about it, though. I refrained from using his name before, but I will now. It's so far in the past for me. My old English teacher says it's common to burn bridges before moving, and I'm starting to believe her. Although, truth to tell, this was hardly ever even a bridge with Chris, more like tightrope. And I started burning one end, he started the other. Only I didn't lie to him about it, he did. Asshole. I hate duplicitous liars. I've loved him, though. It's weird. Whatever.

I'm seeing Green Day tonight, and Laura is coming home! Green Day won't be anything new, but it promises to be fun anyway. They do the same antics at every show, but I love it anyway. It's annoying going to bigger shows like this, but some bands are worth it. Like I ranted about yesterday, I don't give much of a fuck if it's punk rock or not. Who cares?

I want to talk to Max before I leave. I need to get ahold of him (well, I don't NEED to, but I'd certainly like to), but I'm scared to call him because he doesn't really use the telephone, at least not with me. At any rate, I worry about his sanity sometimes. I think he's in a similar position as I was about six months ago, where I just couldn't make a decision one way or another whether to cut the ropes or sew new ones with certain friends of mine. And that fucked me up. I don't want that to happen to him. He deserves better than that. I don't want to second guess him, I really have no idea what his motivations are, but I hope he doesn't get hurt. That's all I really care about. I couldn't care less who his friends are as long as he's not getting hurt. I feel like I'm trying to pressure him, and others, to have the same opinions as me, and it's hardly fair. It's really not.

Scotty and I went to a screening of 'Hedwig' last night at the theater where many of my friends work. It was sort of funny seeing a bunch of kids (probably around 20) smoking pot, drinking, and smoking cigarettes in the theater while the movie was playing. It made me wish I hadn't promised myself I wouldn't drink until London. That would have been a fun place to drink. It would have made me feel rebellious again. Wait, I'm not old enough to start getting sentimental over past antics and bullshit and rebelliousness! Fuck that, I had fun, and I held his hand throughout the film, and we kissed a bit (and no, we didn't make out in the theater, that's gross). It was good times. He's still sleeping in my bed right now. I've fallen hard for him.

Diary, I'll see you in a week and a half. London will rock balls.