[2001-05-27]-[6:36 p.m.]
I'm tired. Damn tired. Not like I want to sleep, I'm just exhausted. I went to a musical review or something with Max last evening. I had a damn good time. I really like the boy. I still am a little confused about what he thinks about the situation, and it's not like I asked. I wasn't about to try anything. I wanted to grab his hand during the play, but I couldn't do it. I don't have the guts. Nor do I think I'd get a very good response. Even if Max does have reciprocal feelings, I doubt he would be particularly into displaying first time feelings in his school's theater. But then again, I am just a dumbass. The show, despite the conceited director, star and choreographer, was still enjoyable. Maybe that's just because Max was next to me. In fact that's probably why I didn't mind it. Normally I hate any youth production. My attention span for that sort of thing is short, but I had fun at this anyway. Then we went to get food. I wasn't eating, and I felt really awkward at the restaurant. Not because of Max, just because a bunch of his friends were there, and I didn't have a clue what they were talking and joking about most of the time. I tried, but I'm not sociable enough to interact with strangers that easily in group situations. Max was nice though. I'm a geek. A big geek.
Today was work. I left early to go to Punk Soccer. I played a bit. Max showed up. I talked to him a bit about nothing in particular. Then I left. I didn't really want to be around him and Christopher at the same time. That would be tough for me. I don't really want to write about it. Anyway, I'm home. I'm hoping I might see him tonight. I don't have much hope of it, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't hope. Right? I feel spent. I don't know what the hell to know or think right now. Nothing has gone wrong yet, but nothing right either. I felt pretty bad two days ago, then pretty good yesterday, and today I've hit the mediocrity between the two. I just wish I could skip ahead to next weekend. For a lot of reasons, I want to.
I hate feeling second best.
'Sometimes it is certainly rough. Most times living is not enough. At times I've got no identity. And all I know is you don't care about me.' ----'Blind Spot' by Screw 32
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